


Family Ties

by QueenBagelcat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Affection, Caring Dean Winchester, Complete, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Gen Work, Guilty Sam Winchester, No Romance, No Slash, No Smut, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Sam Winchester Has Nightmares, not entirely fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 78,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBagelcat/pseuds/QueenBagelcat
Summary: Sam and Dean stop in a small town only to discover that something from Sam's past causes a complication. Sam is arrested for a crime he isn't sure if he committed and the brothers have to explores the meaning of family and maybe separate for good. Set between 11.04 and 11.05.  Lots of fluff, but also show-typical loss.  (Rated T for some swearing and a small dream sequence containing description of torture.) Now complete.
Comments: 42
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi - I'm back and about to break my own rule about posting WIP. I have been working on this story on and off for about a year (among other unfinished stories) and I didn't want to post it until I was finished. But...with the COVID19 quarantine, I figure I have enough time to write and stay ahead of my posting schedule. I also hope this story might provide my readers with a pleasant distraction from all scary news happening around the world right now. This story takes place in season 11 between 11.04 Baby and 11.05 Thin Lizzie. It would take about a month for Dean to restore the Impala after the beating she takes in Baby, so for those sticklers, this would be early August 2015. I'm posting two chapters now and then another chapter every Thursday.
> 
> Warning: This story talks about sexual assault, albeit in a very general, non graphic, legal way.

The parking spots out front of Millford's Sunshine Diner were filled with the usual mix of vehicles, but it was still too early for the dinner crowd. Which suited Dave just fine. He was hoping to get in, get a dish of Carol's Green Chile Cheese Fries, and get home again before his wife looked up from her gardening and noticed him gone. Margo had him and the kids on this no-carb, no-dairy, no-meat, and no-taste diet. He loved his wife, but there was no way he was going to function on tofu, quinoa and kale.

The parking lot around the corner of the bright yellow building was pretty empty, so he found a spot, and then dug his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans. He was about to get out of the truck when a big, sleek black car pulled into the lot. For a second, he just admired the beauty and power of the machine, but it was when he caught sight of the two men in the vehicle that his brain kicked in gear and his pulse jumped. Dumping his wallet on the dash, he pulled out his phone and dialed. The phone rang in his ear 3 times before the snick sound told him it had been answered.

"Sheriff MacCallum," his friend's greeting was gruff and impatient as usual, but Dave didn't let that squash his excitement.

"Hey Brian, it's Dave. I found him."

xxxxxxxx

Dean dragged his last few fries through a little puddle of the spicy chili and stuffed them into his mouth with an exaggerated moan. Sam huffed a laugh and pointed at him with his fork.

"Do you need some privacy, dude?" He ducked the crumpled napkin Dean tossed at his head, and instead stabbed a forkful of his salad, carefully spearing a bit of mandarin with his bite. This was one of the best salads he'd had in a while. The lettuce was crisp, the dressing was tangy and the combination of fruits, veggies and nuts hit all the right notes. He was glad Dean had insisted on stopping for a late lunch. At first sight, the brilliantly yellow building was off putting, but inside the place was clean and cozy, and the food was great. Their waitress Carla, had been especially attentive to him, smiling, tossing her hair, and ignoring Dean's blatant attempt to flirt. The ego boost was flattering and he was going to enjoy razzing his brother about it during the rest of the trip home.

Pushing aside his empty plate, he relaxed back against the banquette and stretched his legs out under the table. Dean seemed similarly comfortable, and when Carla came back to top up their coffees, his brother ordered a slice of rocky road pie.

Funny, when Dean had invited him to come on the drive to Indianapolis, he'd almost refused. The Darkness was out there and they still knew practically nothing about it. But he was happy that he decided to go along for the ride. They'd been forced to take almost a month off from hunting while Dean fixed the car and Sam rehabbed his injured knee. He'd been researching almost non stop during that time, with nothing to show for it except eye strain. Other than the occasional run into town for supplies, this trip to pick up a part for the car had been the first time they'd been back on the road since their run in with that nachzehrer in Oregon. It had been an enjoyable trip; no pressure, no hunting and lots of bonding time with his brother. Sam was content to just sit back, drink his coffee and watch Dean savour his pie. Once the plate was clean, Dean groaned again and patted his stomach.

"So good, Sammy," he said with a satisfied smile. Dean drained the last of his coffee and fished his wallet out of his jeans leaving enough to cover the bill and a generous tip. They slid out of the booth and Carla, who was busy at another table, waved goodbye, with what seemed like a wistful smile for Sam. Dean slapped him hard on the shoulder, purposely distracting him from the lovely waitress.

"Hey, I'm gonna hit the head, I'll meet you at the car, Romeo." Dean laughed over his shoulder as he headed down the corridor to the men's room. Sam ambled out of the diner, pleasantly full and at ease. The sun was high in the air, but the heat of the August day was accompanied by a lovely breeze. He turned the corner and took about three strides into the parking lot, when he heard the familiar, yet heart stopping sound of a shotgun being cocked. Whirling around, he reached for his gun in a single fluid motion.

"Stop! Hands in the air." Sam froze. The man holding the shotgun was flanked by a Sheriff in uniform, pointing a revolver at him. Sam, swiveled his head to look for a way out, or even just for a way to warn Dean. He was surrounded. They had to have been waiting for him. He counted at least 8 guns pointed at him, and the men holding them all looked like they were extremely comfortable with using them. There was no way he could fight his way out of this, so he slowly raised his hands and put on his most innocent expression.

"What's going on, officer?" The Sheriff seemed to be the one in charge because he ignored Sam's question and issued another order.

"Slowly put your hands behind your head, interlock your fingers and get on your knees. Now!" Sam did as he was told, hoping against hope that Dean wouldn't come strolling around the corner right into this mess.

xxxxxxxx

Washing his hands in the sink, Dean had to smirk at the green apple scented soap. It smelled like something Sam would use. As he dried his hands, he had to admit that spending this trip with Sammy, just kicking back, enjoying the drive, was just what he needed. It reminded him of when they were younger, and times were simpler. It was nice to just be brothers for a little while.

He made his way back out of the diner, admiring Carla's fine figure as he went. The day was beautiful, and he was looking forward to the rest of the trip home. Plenty of time to rib Sam about his recent popularity among waitresses. Humming a little to himself, he sauntered back towards the car. When he cleared the corner of the building he was shocked to find Sam, on his knees at gunpoint. There had to be at least 8 armed men aiming at his brother while a uniformed cop put Sam into handcuffs. Immediately Dean tried to duck back around the corner. If they didn't see him, he could figure out what was going on and then stage a rescue. But luck wasn't on his side and the closest guy spotted him before he could take a step.

"Hey, you. Hands in the air!" The guy was dressed in shorts and a polo, as if he'd left a barbecue to come participate in Sam's arrest, but he was alert and ready. The man beside him was in full Sheriff's uniform, his badge catching the light. The armed men all looked to the Sheriff for direction, so Dean plastered on a smile, and did as he was told.

"Uh, what's going on officer?," he said politely, his hands loosely above his head. Dean cast a short glance Sam's way, but his brother's face was obscured by his hair. The Sheriff came towards him. Despite his authoritative presence, Dean could see that he was only about his age. Still, Dean recognized competence when he saw it.

"You must be Dean," the Sheriff said. "Well I'm sorry to tell you that your brother Sam is under arrest. As long as you don't cause any trouble, we've got no reason to arrest you too." Dean read the badge on the man's chest - Sheriff B. MacCallum. They both turned to watch as two of the men helped Sam to his feet. They weren't rough with him, but by the grim looks on their faces, they would rather not be touching him. As they began moving Sam, one of the men with a badge pinned to his shirt read him his rights. Then they marched him to a nearby SUV with "Kempville Sheriff's Department" written on the door in white script.

"Wait, where are you taking him? What is he charged with?" Dean first instinct was to start throwing punches and drag Sam away from the men who were folding him into the vehicle, but it wasn't worth the risk of getting his brother shot. Plus, Sam's body language was all wrong. He wasn't tensed, ready to act if an opening arose, if anything Sammy looked ashamed, he kept his head down and climbed into the vehicle purposely not looking Dean's way.

"Your brother's being charged with rape." An incredulous laugh involuntarily forced its way out of Dean and he shook his head. The sheriff's jaw tightened in anger. Dean wasn't trying to be insulting, but he couldn't help his reaction.

"Rape? Sammy? No way! No, there's got to be a mistake, Sam would never do something like that. He's practically a monk. He blushes if a girl even flirts with him!" Dean was dumbfounded. He and Sam had done a lot of criminal stuff over the years. Things that would earn either one of them a lengthy stint in prison or worse, but there was absolutely no way Sam would force himself on a girl. It just wasn't possible.

"Oh, there's no mistake." With a hard look of disdain, the Sheriff turned his back on Dean and began walking over to the SUV where Sam sat dejected in the back seat. Dean followed him, but Sheriff MacCallum paused and put out a hand stopping him from getting closer.

"Sorry. Look, I'm afraid it doesn't look good for Sam. I suggest you head on home, but can follow us back to Kempville if you want." And with that, he shook hands with a number of the men who then moved off towards other cars. MacCallum and his deputy climbed into the SUV.

Dean sprinted to the Impala and jumped inside, ignoring the heat that had built up in the black car. He gunned the engine and followed the SUV as it pulled out of the parking lot. Sam finally turned to look back at him, and he caught a glimpse of his brother's solemn face through the rear window.


	2. Chapter 2

Brian pressed the button to open the automatic gate to the police yard. Their operation wasn't very big, but the parking lot served as both parking for their squad cars and the impound lot. It also provided easy access to the back entrance, the one closest to the holding cells. Although he kept his face impassive, his body was thrumming with a combination of excitement and satisfaction. They had finally caught him. Casting a glance via the rear-view mirror as the gate trundled to the side, Brian had to admit that Sam Winchester didn't look like the evil predator that he was. Still, one of the first things he learned when he joined the force after college was that looks can be deceiving. He let out a slow breath, forcing his body to calm, and drove through the now open gate. He had been looking for the man in the back seat for more than five years, a few more days wouldn't make a difference.

On high alert, Brian waited while Kyle got out and walked around. With a curt nod at his deputy, he watched as Kyle opened the door and pulled Sam from the vehicle. He followed as they moved through the back of the station. One by one his officers drifted from what they were doing, to watch the perp walk. Clive had the cell door open and ready, but Kyle gave Winchester a shove, knocking the prisoner hard against the steel bars.

"Hey," Brian called out sharply. "None of that." He already felt a little guilty about the less than orthodox nature of this arrest, and so he intended to take the high road as much as possible. No matter how her personally felt about the man, or how much Winchester deserved some abuse, he was not going to allow his officers to stoop to that level.

If the prisoner had any feelings about the hard knock, it didn't show on his face. He had his head down, his long hair hiding his face. Once the cuffs were off, Winchester just took a seat on the cot. Eyes on his large hands that hung between his knees, he was the picture of dejection, and he looked younger suddenly, like an overgrown kid, contrite for having disobeyed. If Brian didn't know what the tall man had done, he would almost feel sorry for him. But he didn't - what he had done to Fiona was unforgivable. A surge of anger pulsed through Brian, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself again.

Turning, he saw the whole on duty team had crowded into the little area outside the cells. Clive was back at his desk, sitting, but watching attentively. Kyle was on his left, Marnie and Wayne were on his right. Wayne was shifting his feet uncomfortably and shooting nervous glances into the cell. Even Shirley had left the main office area to lurk in the doorway. With most of his officers here, Brian figured it was as good a time as any to set the tone. He cleared his throat expectantly and faced them, all eyes on him.

"I think all of you know that this suspect, that this case is very important to me. And because of that, I am…" he searched for the right word, "bending some of our usual protocols. If anyone has a problem with that, I understand and will immediately authorize additional personal leave so that you don't need to be a part of this." He paused, but no one looked away or seemed even the slightest bit interested in taking him up on his offer. A flare of pride took his breath away for a second. This team of people were like a second family to him, and it meant a lot that they were with him on this. Still, he needed to be clear, so he straightened his shoulders and continued,

"But if you choose to see this through with me, I don't want emotions clouding your judgement." He gestured towards the cell. "We treat this prisoner exactly the way we would any other. Am I clear?," he asked. A soft chorus of "yes sirs" came his way and he gave a firm but heartfelt nod. "Thank you, all." He cleared his throat again, determined to set an example. "Now, everyone has work to do, so I suggest you get back to what you were doing." And with that dismissal, the three younger officers left the room. Brian quietly addressed his colleague behind the nearby desk, pitching his voice so that hopefully the man in the cell couldn't hear him.

"Clive, I'm gonna trust you to keep a good eye on this one. By all accounts he is one dangerous son of a bitch." Only a few years from retirement, Clive was a good man. He'd been here when Brian had first started on the force. It was a comfort to have the older man around for his level head and steady nature. He was really only fit for desk duty now, far from the fit young turk he had been in his youth, but Brian couldn't imagine the department without him.

"You know I will, Sheriff," Clive offered, sitting up straight behind his desk. Brian clapped a hand on his beefy shoulder.

"Good man," he said. Just then Shirley popped her head around the door frame and crooked a finger his way. Another of the old guard, Shirl had been managing the administration of the department for almost 40 years. Brian respected and appreciated her wisdom, even if he had to put up with some occasional good intention-ed mothering. Joining her at the door she gave him an assessing look over the rim of her glasses.

"What's up Shirley?," he asked heading off any unwanted questions. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"There's a young man at the front who insists on seeing the prisoner." She sniffed, indicating without words her feelings about the man in the cell. Frankly, Brian had all but forgotten about the other Winchester brother, but he figured he'd better speak with him. From what Brian had read about the two of them, Dean Winchester was potentially even more dangerous than his brother. He wished he could call the Feds and just turn Dean into them, but it was complicated. For one, both men were supposed to be dead, and more importantly, there was no way to turn Dean in without relinquishing custody of Sam too. And that was something Brian was not prepared to do.

"Okay, Shirl, I'll speak with him. Meanwhile, can you do the intake on our prisoner. Just…" he gave her a significant look, " hard copy only, Shirley, I don't want any of this in the system just yet." Shirley nodded and patted her pearls nervously.

Walking out with Shirley, Brian saw Dean Winchester pacing in front of the reception counter. The man had an easy, grace about him, but he was obviously agitated, running his hands through his short hair until it stood up spiky on his head. It was best not to jump to conclusions, but Brian's hand itched to rest on his sidearm. He stepped up to the counter and Dean swiveled to face him.

xxxxxxx

Dean felt like he'd been pacing for an hour, even though he knew it hadn't been anywhere near that long. The whole drive over, he'd been trying to wrap his brain around all this. There was no way Sam had raped a girl. He'd never believe that in a million years. His brother had an almost courtly, old fashioned sense of chivalry when it came to women. Hell, until Oregon he had practically been a monk.

The second thing that put Dean on edge was the fact that he was standing here free. The Sheriff knew their real names. Both he and Sam had federal rap sheets as long as your arm. The fact that this small town Sheriff hadn't arrested him too and turned them both over to the Feds was a puzzle. Was this some kind of personal vendetta by the Sheriff? Either way, Dean needed to see Sam. Once he could talk to his brother, he'd have a better idea of what was going on. Then he'd figure out a way to break Sam out and they'd get the hell out of Kempville.

Finally, the Sheriff arrived. The man looked professional and unruffled which hopefully bode well for Sammy.

"I want to see my brother," Dean demanded, leaning forward with both palms flat on the counter. The uniformed man gave him a calculating look, then having made some sort of internal decision, waved Dean over to the small gate that cordoned off the working part of the station.

"I'll take you to see him, but first, I'd like to have a word in my office, if you don't mind." With a gesture, he ushered Dean through an area filled with desks, computers and filing cabinets. Dean wasn't really in the mood to chat, he wanted to check in with Sam and make sure his brother was doing okay. Sam knew how to handle small town cops like this, but he also knew just how hard the kid would take such an ugly accusation. For now, it seemed best to stay cooperative and see what intel he could get out of the badge beside him.

"Look, Sheriff," Dean began as the other man closed the door. "Like I said, you have the wrong guy. Sam wouldn't…." he found it hard to say the word. "He's not the kind of guy who…" The Sheriff put up a hand to stop him.

"Save it, Dean. Take a seat" Dean perched on the chair in front of the big oak desk that took up most of the small room. Reaching into a drawer, the lawman pulled out a file as thick as Dean's fist and dropped it heavily on the desk. The soft thud felt ominous. "This is my file on you and your brother. Sam and Dean Winchester, on the FBI's most wanted list on and off for almost a decade. Except for when you both died - several times over." Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but the other man just leaned forward, placed the fingertips of his right hand over the file, and continued.

"You and Sam are wanted for everything from grave robbing and credit card fraud to multiple counts of first degree murder. Hell, if the official records are to be believed, you two are practically the criminals of the century. I admit that with some digging, I discovered some puzzling discrepancies. People who swear up and down that you and your brother saved them from impossible monsters. It's hard to know what to think, but all in all, I have every reason to think that Sam is more than capable of rape." The man's voice remained controlled, but Dean could sense anger simmering just underneath that smooth exterior.

"Now I consider what I do important. I take the motto "to serve and protect" very seriously. Normally I like to play things by the book, and what I should be doing is arresting your ass and calling the FBI. But do you know why I'm not doing that, Dean?" The intensity in the Sheriff's stare had Dean on edge. The door was only two steps away, but he forced himself to stay seated. Still he wished he hadn't left his gun in the car. He stayed silent and stared back, keeping his expression neutral.

"I'm not calling the Feds on you both because, as much as I respect this badge…" He reached up and touched the shiny shield on his chest reverently. "There is something even more important to me than this job - family." The Sheriff shoved his chair back and stood, leaning over his desk to glare at Dean, both clenched fists against the wood. "On April 17, 2010 your brother raped my little sister," he spat, his face a mask of barely controlled rage. Dean was too stunned to react.

"So I'm not going to let Sam be whisked away by some government suit. He's going to stay right here, nice and safe. And then on Monday, circuit Judge Hawkins will arrive and your brother will have to face his day in court for what he did to my sister." The Sheriff's nostrils were flaring slightly, the only visible sign that the other man was struggling to contain his emotions.

There was nothing Dean could think of to say. No matter what the Sheriff said, he knew his brother. Sam just could not have done what he'd been accused of. But Dean also intimately knew how the lawman felt. If anyone dared to hurt Sammy in that way, he'd be planning a slow and excruciating murder. In the other man's shoes, he doubted he'd be as controlled. He had to admire the Sheriff's self restraint. A lesser man might have had the lynch mob ready and willing in some anonymous field outside of town, but it seemed like the Sheriff had some integrity and was willing to wait for the local justice system.

Pushing off the desk, the Sheriff smoothed a hand over the front of his shirt. He watched intently as Dean also stood. The two sized each other up for a long minute, until Dean nodded tightly.

"I want to see my brother," was all he said, but his tone conveyed a small spark of grudging respect for the man wearing the badge. With a brief nod of his own, the Sheriff moved out from behind the desk and led the way back into the main room.

As they weaved between the desks, Dean noted the deputies in the room. There was a baby faced guy, not more than 25 who stared wide eyed as they walked by his desk. A capable looking brunette with her hair in a bun, kept her face impassive as they passed. And casually waiting by the door that led to the lock up was the deputy, about Sam's age, who'd been at the diner with the Sheriff. As they approached, Dean saw his hand drift towards his gun, but an almost imperceptible jerk of the chin from his boss had the deputy relaxing back against a file cabinet.

In the back area, there were three small cells, the first and third were unoccupied and Dean wondered if they had released the usual occupants before bringing Sam in. A town like this probably only dealt with drunk and dis-orderlies and maybe the occasional bar fight or domestic. A heavy set deputy sat behind a small desk set across from the center cell. A name plate on the desk identified the sweating, red faced man as Deputy Clive Shaw. Clive straightened in his chair when the Sheriff looked his way. Just outside of arm's reach from the middle cell an older woman sat in a straight backed wooden chair. She reminded Dean of someone's grandmother, decked out in pearls and a sweater set, both sweet and no nonsense. In her hands was a clip board with some papers, but as they approached she stood up and dragged the chair back to the desk.

"You've got 5 minutes," the Sheriff said. "We'll give you some privacy, but don't even think about trying anything, we've got video surveillance." Checking the corners of the room, Dean saw the tiny red lights of at least two cameras, so he flashed a tight smirk. The three strangers filed out of the room and Dean turned his attention to Sam.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note about the date mentioned in this chapter. I'm using "show time" which magically has Sam and Dean apart for a year while Sam was in the Cage, but doesn't reflect that on the calendar. So April 2010 was a few months before the events of 6.01 Exile on Main St.

His brother was sitting on the edge of the metal cot, head down, hunched over his knees in a way that made him look impossibly small for someone his size. Sam was motionless except for a small movement his hands made. Dean's heart dropped when he realized that Sam was squeezing the scar on his left palm.

"Sam?," he asked tentatively. His brother looked up at the sound of his voice and Dean was relieved to find him alert and aware.

"Dean!" Jumping to his feet, Sam came closer to the bars. Dean looked at his brother closely. Based on the tangle of his hair and the pinched lines around his eyes Dean knew just how freaked Sammy really was.

"You okay?," Dean asked, wanting to get a handle on his brother's state of mind. Being in a cage was bound to cause the kid major anxiety. Sam dragged a hand through his hair and rolled his tight shoulders.

"I'm fine, Dean. I think at least one of the deputies wants to beat the crap out of me, but other than that…," Sam forced a dark chuckle. Dean could tell he was trying to put on a brave face, but was struggling to not come unglued. "The Sheriff told them all to treat me like any other prisoner. Why would he do that? What's going on?" Sam's anxiety crept into his voice and Dean fervently wished he had better news.

"Yeah, about that." Dean cast a glance towards the door. He could tell by the shadow on the floor that someone was lurking near the opening, so he lowered his voice a bit further. "Look, the Sheriff is keeping you here because he thinks you uh, raped his kid sister." The colour drained from Sam's face and he covered his mouth with his hand. "So, this is personal to him," Dean added even as he wished he didn't have to.

"So that's why they haven't formally booked me. Or for that matter, why they haven't arrested you too and called the Feds." Putting a hand against one of the bars, Sam sagged as if he'd taken a blow. "When did he say this happened?"

"April 2010 - but c'mon Sam. Don't worry. I don't know what they think they've got on you, but I know you. You're no rapist." Dean smiled at his brother fondly, but Sam just inhaled sharply and looked away, but not before Dean caught a flash of shame on his face.

"So, uh...April 2010, I uh, raped someone?" Sam had a hard time getting the ugly word out and he was still refusing to meet Dean's eyes, instead staring at the empty desk over Dean's shoulder before turning away completely. Dean stared at his brother's broad back and tried to do the math, but he lost patience.

"Sam, what the hell difference does the date make?" He frowned. When Sam turned back his way, the kid's face was red with what looked like embarrassment. A muscle jumped in his jaw and he ran his right thumb over his left palm again.

"Because that's when I didn't have a soul." The words hung in the air between them before Sam huffed out a sigh and began pacing. "I can't remember. Dean, I've tried, and tried, but there's just too much…" He fluttered his fingers by his temple and Dean immediately understood. While Sam's soul was enduring almost two centuries of torment in the Cage, his body was up here running around with Samuel. Dean sucked in a breath. Without his soul, RoboSam had no morals, no limits and no need to sleep. He'd spent his nights working out and screwing around.

"It's possible, Dean," Sam's voice cracked slightly at the admission as he stopped pacing. There was anguish and guilt oozing from him. "It's possible I did what they say I did. Maybe I deserve to be locked up?"

"Hey, what have I told you a thousand times, huh? That wasn't really you." Dean said sharply, clutching the bars of the cell, but Sam interrupted him.

"Yes it was Dean," he said softly. "It may not have been all of me, but it was me. And this time I can't ignore what I did." Sam slumped back down onto the cot and hung his head in shame.

"C'mon man, I know you, Sam. And the real, fully souled you, would never, ever do something like that." Dean argued urgently. He needed to reassure his brother and wipe that desperate, shameful look off Sam's face. Sam just stared at his hands, so Dean tried another tactic. "Sammy, you can't think that way. Look, I'll find a way to break you outta here tonight and…" Sam cut him off again.

"No," he said emphatically. "I need to be here. I need to know for sure what happened. Look, you don't have to stay. You can head back to the bunker, check on Cas, keep working on finding Amara." Dean scoffed, like he would just head home and abandon his brother in this mess.

"Dude, I'm not going anywhere," he said fiercely. The broken, self-recrimination in Sam's voice hurt Dean, but before he could say anything else, he heard a sound by the door. Their five minutes was up. "Look, Sam. It'll be okay, we'll figure this out." Sam nodded weakly and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I know," he said sadly as Deputy Clive returned to his desk. Sam went back to staring at his hands. Dean hated leaving his brother like this, looking so defeated, but there wasn't much else he could say with an audience.

"I'll be back, Sammy," Dean stated firmly, both to his brother and the older man at the desk. Then forcing himself to turn away, he went back into the main part of the station.

xxxxxxx

Stepping out of the station, the late afternoon sun beat down on Dean. What was he going to do? His first impulse was to ignore Sam and plan a jailbreak, but he couldn't do that. The last few years had been a mess because he had ignored Sam's wishes, first with Gadreel and then with the Mark of Cain. It was only the past few months that he finally felt like he and his brother were back in a good place.

Across the street and down half a block was a diner. It was only a few hours from when they'd stopped for lunch, but Dean wanted to sit and think while staying close to Sam, so he walked over and pulled open the door.

Suzie Q's was the kind of old fashioned mom and pop diner that modern restaurateurs paid designers big bucks to try and recreate. There was a long counter, lined with stools, and booths with red and white padded benches. An honest to god jukebox stood at one end of the room and the walls were adorned with vinyl albums and pictures of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe. An middle aged waitress cruised by with a tray full of food.

"Just sit anywhere, Hon," she tossed his way. Dean chose a booth that gave him both a view of the door as well as the police station across the street, and slid behind the table. The waitress swung by with a mug and poured him a cup of joe before she was gone again to deliver another order. Ignoring the sugar and creamers sitting on the table, Dean took a sip of the better than expected coffee. The hot beverage was comforting and familiar despite his jangled thoughts. The beginnings of a plan began to form.

First off, he had to find a motel and get a room. He had every intention of breaking Sam out of jail before the judge arrived on Monday, but he'd have to make it look like he was planning to stay. No doubt Sheriff MacCallum would have his officers check up on him. So, he'd book a room until next Wednesday.

Secondly, he'd wait until it was late tonight and case out the police station under cover of darkness. Find the entrances, the blind spots in the surveillance cameras. It never hurt to be prepared in case Sam changed his mind or Dean's hand was forced and they ran out of time.

He also needed to call Cas, see how he was doing and update him. Physically Cas had pretty well recovered from that stupid spell Rowena had cast on him, but mentally, not so much. The angel was both jumpy and lethargic, mostly staying in his room and zoning out with Netflix. Both he and Sam had tried to get him to come with them for a hunt, a food run, even just for a walk, but Cas was strangely reluctant to leave the bunker. They'd decided to give him some more time in the hopes that he'd come around on his own.

As Dean mulled his plans over in his head a man slid into the booth across from him. The guy was good looking, late-twenties, light brown hair, friendly smile. He had on a pair of slouchy khaki shorts and a t-shirt with a picture of a fluffy cat on it. Dean glared at him.

"Can I help you?," he growled sarcastically, eager for this guy to leave. He had no interest in small talk with some local. But the guy ignored both his question and dangerous tone.

"You must be Dean Winchester," he said with a steady expression. "I'm Jacob Tollman." Jacob stuck out his hand, but Dean ignored it, and scowled at him. Just then the waitress showed up and poured the younger man a coffee.

"Hey Jacob, the usual?" The guy nodded. "And anything for you?," she looked at Dean expectantly, but he shook his head and she left with a shrug and a warm smile.

"No offense buddy, but I'm not looking for company," Dean stated as rudely as possible. Hopefully the kid would take the hint and get lost.

"No, you're thinking about your brother Sam, and wondering exactly what the hell happened 5 years ago." The younger man leaned back, a slightly smug expression on his face, obviously pleased with himself for the bomb he'd just dropped. Dean wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of showing just how surprised he was, so he fixed the scowl on his face and said nothing. The guy deflated a little bit, but continued. "Look, I was there that night, I can tell you what I saw and, if you want, I can fill you in on the MacCallum family."

xxxxxxx

Jacob was a little conflicted. The MacCallum family had accepted him and taken him in as one of their own ever since he and Ethan had started dating. His sense of duty to Ethan and his siblings was strong, but at the same time, he was pretty sure that there was more to the story of that ill-fated night 5 years ago than the MacCallums knew. Even though Dean Winchester was a dangerous looking character, he deserved to know what had happened.

If he were a betting man, he'd lay money that Winchester had seen and handled a lot worse than a small town sheriff like Brian. The older man's eyes narrowed and Jacob was pinned in place by his intense stare. Then finally Winchester blinked and Jacob could breathe again.

"Tell me what you know," the green-eyed man commanded. His mouth suddenly dry, Jacob forced down a swallow of coffee and began.

"First, I want you to know that the MacCallums are good people. Brian - the Sheriff - is an upstanding guy, always doing his best to take care of the people in this town. Even though I had barely started seeing Ethan just before this whole thing with Fiona went down, the entire family has treated me like one of their own." Jacob wanted to be clear about this. "See, there are 6 kids in the family, five older brothers and then the baby, Fiona. Their parents died when she was 14 so the older boys took care of their siblings. Aiden - he's the oldest - he was 26, and he had just started working a good job in Chicago, so it fell to Brian and his twin Colin to look after the rest." Dean put up his hand to stop him.

"That's sad and all, but I don't give a damn about the Sheriff's tragic backstory? Just get to the point. What the hell does this have to do with, Sam?" Dean barked. Jacob swallowed hard, a trickle of nervous sweat running down his hairline.

"I swear I'm getting there. You just need to understand that Fiona was the little sister with five, super overprotective older brothers. They wanted to keep her safe, so they kept her on a tight leash. She was a real good girl, you know, kept her grades up, never in trouble. But it was only a matter of time before she began to want a little freedom. Five years ago, when she turned 21, she had planned to have a night out on the town with her two best girlfriends, but Brian didn't want her drinking." At this Jacob sighed. Brian could be so short sighted sometimes. He was about to resume his story when Suzie swung by and dropped off his order. The meatloaf and mashed potatoes smelled fantastic. She topped up both their mugs while Jacob savored the first delicious bite, but then put his fork down so that he could talk.

"Anyway, they had a big, blow up fight - stirred up the whole family. A couple of weeks later, Fiona drove over to Millford one Friday night and went to a bar called the Rusty Chain. I happened to be there with some friends from school. Ethan and I had been dating for about a month at that point, so when I recognized Fiona, I figured I should keep an eye on her, right?" He paused, but Dean didn't seem inclined to say anything so Jacob took a gulp of his freshened coffee and plunged on with the story.

"Fiona was way out of her depth, wide-eyed and tipsy, dancing by herself and attracting all the wrong attention. I tried to talk her into going home, but she told me to mind my own business. My friends and I did our best to head off the really sketchy dudes, but when it started to get late, that's when this tall guy walks in." At that Dean sat up a little straighter and Jacob took the opportunity to eat some more of his dinner. The food was fantastic as always, but he could sense Winchester's impatience. He put a hand in front of his mouth so he could finish chewing while he continued.

"So, this guy was big, tall and totally ripped, but it was his attitude I noticed more than anything. He looked around as if he owned the joint, and once he noticed Fiona, he just got...intense." There was no other way he could think of to describe it. "Look, I know he's your brother, but he was like a lion or something stalking a gazelle, predatory - cold almost. It was kinda creepy. He went over to her and bought her a beer. At first I was worried, but they were just talking, not even flirting really, so I figured I was just overreacting. By this time, I'd had a few myself and...well I lost track of them." He was ashamed to admit it. Sure she was an adult, and not his responsibility, but considering all that had happened, he couldn't help but kick himself over it even all these years later. Suddenly his dinner didn't seem as appealing.

"The next time I saw her, it was a couple of hours later. The bar was closing and I was waiting in the parking lot for Ethan to come get me when I heard her crying. She wasn't hurt or anything, just sitting in her car, crying her eyes out. I just sat with her, tried to get her to tell me what was going on. I mean she really didn't know me very well then, so I guess she was uncomfortable. She wouldn't even look at me, just kept staring out the windshield, crying. It was bad, man." He shook his head at the painful memory.

"Once her brother got there, she broke down completely, so we drove her home. A couple of days later Ethan told me that she had been raped."

When he started to tell this story, he had been eager to share it with someone who wasn't just interested in gossip about the MacCallum family. But now he felt a little disgusted with himself, there wasn't really any good side to this whole incident. His table mate had been poker faced while he told the tale, but now, the older man dragged a hand down his face, his eyebrows pinched together with distress. Jacob got a few more bite of his cooling dinner in while he waited for a reaction.

"Was there anyone with Sam that night? Say, maybe an older bald guy?" That wasn't the question he expected Winchester to ask.

"No, not that I saw," he mumbled around a mouth full of mashed potatoes. With no reply Dean got up and pulled out some bills, more than enough to cover the coffee, Jacob's dinner and a nice tip for Suzie.

"Thanks," he said walking to the door and through it before Jacob could swallow enough to protest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back with another chapter. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. Feedback is always appreciated!

The car was hot, but Dean's only concession to the temperature was to take off his jacket and lay it in the passenger seat. He slouched down and got comfortable. For a long time he watched, but very few people went in and out of the police station. Dean saw the female deputy cross the street not long after he left the diner and pick up what seemed like dinner for the entire squad. He wondered idly if they fed Sam and made a mental note to check with him in the morning. A little later, Deputy Clive walked by the car on the way to and from the little pharmacy up the main street, but luckily he didn't notice Dean. By this time the sun was slowly sinking behind the church that was opposite where he'd had parked. Once it was dark, he did a quick preliminary circuit around the building, noting lighting and potential vulnerabilities.

Finally, satisfied that he had learned all he could for now, Dean drove just out of town to the only local motel. The Bide-a-Wee was a small place with only 6 units. As he'd suspected, the sheriff had tipped off the old couple who ran the motel because they were politely formal as he checked in for the week. Luckily he'd been carrying a lot more cash than usual, money he'd had on hand in case he could score any spare parts for his baby when the went to pick up the piece he'd ordered. He couldn't exactly lay down a credit card with someone else's name on it.

The room, when he used the key he was given, was pretty big, clean and smelled fresh. There was a wooden table and chairs, an older TV on a large dresser, and two beds, neatly covered in matching Black Watch tartan bedspreads. Dean sat down on one of the beds and grabbed the remote. He purposely ignored the little clench his heart gave when he glanced at the second, empty bed. Kicking his boots off, he leaned back on the small pile of pillows and turned the TV on low. Once it had gotten late enough, he'd head back into the little town and finish assessing the police station. The mattress was surprisingly comfortable, so he pulled out his phone and set an alarm just in case he fell asleep.

Bouncing the phone in his palm for a full minute, he debated calling Cas. He probably should check in on their friend, but if he needed anything, Cas knew enough to call. Right now, Dean didn't want to have to tell the angel what Sam had been accused of. It felt like by saying it out loud it would somehow make it true. It bothered him to even think about what Jacob had told him, in part because it sounded exactly like the Sam that had been running around without a soul. As much as he was determined not to believe it, doubt gnawed at Dean's gut. RoboSam had spent the nights he no longer needed for sleep, casing the bars for hookups. It was one of the many differences from his real brother that had made Dean's skin crawl and he tried not to revisit those memories. The idea that his brother - even that twisted model of him - could do something so awful made his stomach turn. Determined to push his thoughts aside, he put his phone on the nightstand and settled in to wait.

It was a firm knock on the door that woke Dean up. At some point, he had obviously fallen asleep, so he checked the time on his phone. The alarm he had set was still a few minutes away from sounding off, so it was way too late for visitors. Dean picked up his gun from where it sat on the nightstand and padded to the door in his socks. He saw through the peephole the young Deputy from earlier, so he cracked the door open with his weapon hidden behind it.

"Yes," he said, his voice rough from sleep. The young man straightened up.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm sorry to disturb you so late. I'm Deputy Wayne Bryden. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd come with me?" The young man's tone was earnest and he didn't shift or avoid eye contact, so Dean was pretty sure he wasn't about to be run out of town on a rail or dragged off to be lynched. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans and opened the door a little wider.

"What's this about?" The deputy rubbed the back of his neck, his anxiety bleeding through his thin facade of professionalism.

"It's your brother, sir. I need you to come with me. Now."

Dean's heart stopped. Something was wrong with Sam. Abandoning the door, he shoved his feet into his boots, and grabbed his phone, wallet and jacket. He would have preferred to jump into the Impala, but the patrol car was in the way and he didn't want to waste time arguing with the deputy. Climbing into the police vehicle, he took a moment to get his boots on right while his driver pulled out of the motel parking lot.

"What's wrong with Sam?," he demanded as he finished tying his laces. The kid driving looked scared.

"I wasn't there, but apparently he woke up screaming his head off, and uh..," he hesitated, shooting Dean a nervous glance.

"What?" Dean barked at the kid who flinched. Maybe he was being a bit hard on the junior deputy but feelings be damned. Something had to be really wrong with Sam for the Sheriff to send for him in the middle of the night. He had no concern to spare for the young man driving.

"Uh, somehow he hid a knife from dinner and he, uh, he...cut himself." The deputy hunched over the steering wheel as if preparing for Dean to shout at him again. But Dean had shifted from anger to worry. What the hell? How bad was Sam hurt? Why would he cut himself? Yeah sure his brother felt guilty over what his soulless self might have done, but Sammy was not the self-harm type. Frankly that was more of Dean's deal, although his weapon of choice was usually alcohol. The lack of response seemed to shake the young deputy and he squealed the tires as he pulled in hot to the police lot.

Following Wayne into the station through the back, Dean could sense the tension in the air. There were a couple of deputies he hadn't seen before crowding in the door to the lock up area, but Dean just shouldered past them. An unknown female uniform was standing over the desk, talking urgently on the phone, but the woman who'd been in the station this afternoon was standing in the open door to Sam's cell, holding a bloody handkerchief over her nose. She nodded to him with wide eyes as he walked around her into the cell.

Sam was sitting on the floor. He'd somehow wedged himself into the small space between the cot and the wall. Dean could see blood on his jeans, but what worried him far more was the way Sam was rocking back and forth over his knees, his arms wrapped around his head. He crouched down in front of his brother, but stopped short of touching him.

"Sam?," he asked gently. Sam stopped rocking and peeked out from behind his arms, staring at him. Dean could tell that he'd been crying and his wild eyes darted around the room for a while before Sam could actually focus on his face.

"Dean?" Sam breathed with a rough voice. The kid slowly unwound one arm and reached out shaking fingers to touch Dean's jacket. "Are you real?" he asked in a small, broken way that tore at Dean's plummeting heart.

"Yeah, it's me, Sammy." Giving in to the need to touch his brother, he held onto Sam's forearm with one hand while he reached out to brush the hair off his face with another. Sam's gaze never left his face. Sucking in a ragged breath, he pulled his arm out of Dean's grip and drove his thumb into the bloody palm of his left hand. When nothing happened, Sam seemed to calm a bit.

"Hey now, you're good, Sam. You're fine. I'm right here," Dean encouraged, stopping Sam by wrapping his hands around his brother's. Slowly the uncertainty drained from Sam's expression.

Moving carefully, Dean turned over Sam's left hand. A jagged gash ran across older scar tissue and oozed enough blood to have it dripping between his fingers onto the floor. It had been a while since Sam had needed to use this trick. Obviously being in the Cage-like cell had triggered some of Sam's worst memories from Hell. Pulling a bandana from his jacket, Dean carefully wrapped his brother's wounded hand.

"Okay, there you go," he said in his most soothing tone. "Let's get you up now." Tugging on Sam's arms got him moving and he unfolded himself enough that Dean could help pull him up and pivot Sam onto the cot. Sam was trembling slightly, so he stayed crouched in front of his brother, ignoring both the pain in his knees and the audience of law enforcement behind him. A folded blanket appeared in his peripheral vision. The deputy still had a bit of blood on her face, and she was going to have a heck of shiner in a few hours, but she flashed a brief smile at him as she put the blanket on the end of the cot.

"Here," she said before stepping back out of his sight line. Dean grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around Sam, tucking it in around his brother's shoulders like he had when Sammy was a child, waking from a nightmare. Sam seemed quiet for now, cradling his damaged hand close to his chest.

"Thanks," Sam whispered as he turtled into the blanket and turned away, hiding his face from the spectators. Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze then stood, his knees pleased at that move. He stood in front of Sam, blocking him from view as much as he could when he heard a familiar voice.

"Davis, Sanchez - get back to work." Sheriff MacCallum scolded his officers. Dean turned to see him give the woman who had been on the phone a nod, and she also left the room. Leaving Sam for the moment, Dean joined the sheriff and the bloodied deputy outside of the cell.

"You okay, Marnie?," he asked his officer.

"Yes sir," she responded crisply, back to business.

"What happened?" The command to report reminded Dean of his father, even though the sheriff was closer to his age than his Dad's. He wanted answers too, so he kept his mouth shut for now.

"The prisoner was asleep and Val was at the desk," she began when MacCallum interrupted.

"Wait, where was Clive?"

"He wasn't feeling well, so Shirley called in Valerie to cover the rest of the night shift." The Sheriff frowned at that but motioned her to continue.

"So, Val was back here and I came in to bring her a coffee. Winchester was restless, tossing and mumbling in his sleep when all of a sudden he started uh, screaming." She seemed shaken just relaying this so Dean had to ask.

"What was he saying?" She answered automatically, although MacCallum frowned harder at Dean's interruption.

"At first it was just...horrible screaming. Then he started begging, 'Get away from me', 'Please no, Please don't.' It was pretty intense, and you could hear him out at the front desk." He could see compassion in her eyes. Having experienced his brother's nightmares first hand, Dean could imagine how alarming it must have been for her. She cleared her throat and shot a quick glance at Sam who was still huddled in the blanket.

"I figured I would go in, wake him up, get him to quiet down, but when I touched him, well he uh…" Dean could see her choose her words carefully. "He uh, swung his arm up and it caught me in the face."

"So he punched you?" The Sheriff clarified grimly.

"No sir, he was still asleep, he just kind of reacted when I touched him. He swung his arms, thrashing around, and then he woke up. He didn't even seem to see me, he just started calling for his brother." She shrugged uncomfortably, but kept her eyes on the Sheriff. Then he pulled out this." She pointed to a small butter knife sitting on the desk. There was a smear of blood on the blade.

"I drew my gun, but he just crawled into the corner and uh, stabbed the knife into his hand. It was creepy, like it uh, relaxed him or something." She shuddered and glanced back at Sam. "I was able to slap the blade out of his grip, then he just sort of curled up and went silent. I wasn't sure what to do, so Val called you, and I had Wayne go get his brother, Sir." At the end of her story, she straightened, perhaps prepared to be disciplined for overstepping, or maybe just happy to pass this whole problem onto the boss. The sheriff sighed.

"It's okay, Marnie. Good call," he praised, eyeballing her nose. "Go get some ice on that, then check in with Kyle. See if he needs any help on the paperwork for that B&E over at Coulsons." MacCallum dismissed her casually, and she skinned out of the room in a blink, leaving Dean and the Sheriff to stare awkwardly at each other. Despite being called out in the middle of the night, the Sheriff looked tidy and put together even out of uniform. It was only his eyes that gave away that he was tired. He jerked his chin in Sam's direction.

"He okay now? Does he need medical attention?" The questions were offered somewhat grudgingly, but not unkindly, so Dean took them at face value.

"No, it's not a bad cut. He's fine now." He kept his voice low, Sam hated when people talked about him, but Dean saw an opportunity. "Actually, as you can see, Sam doesn't do too well in small spaces. He suffers from PTSD. Why don't you release him to me? I'll make sure he shows up on Monday." Dean used his most reasonable, scout's honour voice. Even though he didn't really think the other man would fall for it, he still had to try. MacCallum actually gave a tired chuckle.

"I don't think so." Closing the cell door, the Sheriff locked it and then dropped the ring of keys onto the middle of the desk. "I was born at night, but not last night," he scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning on the edge of the desk, blocking any opportunity Dean had to snag the keys. "Why don't you say goodnight to your brother, and I'll have one of the deputies drive you back to the motel." Internally Dean was annoyed, but he flashed a smile anyway and moved back to the bars.

"Sammy?," he called softly. Shrugging off the blanket, Sam slunk over to the bars. Dean could tell he was calmer now. Both embarrassed and still reeling from whatever horror had been haunting his dreams, but back with a solid grip on the here and now. He met Dean's eyes. "You gonna be okay, now?"

"Yeah, Dean. Go on and get some sleep. I'll uh, see you in the morning." Sam gave him a ghost of a smile. "Thanks." His eyes said volumes more than his words, but Dean knew what he meant. Reaching through the bars, Dean gave Sam's wrist a squeeze.

"Okay, Sam. I'll be back in the morning." Ignoring the Sheriff for now, he waited until the younger man went back to his cot and laid down on his side, pulling the blanket over his legs. Only then did he turn and head out of the room, followed by the watchful law man.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and special thanks to BulletproofTrash for their kind comments. As a special Easter treat, I'm giving you two chapters a day early which should hopefully give a little more clarity around Sam's situation. Tiny warning...I describe a little bit of what happened that night over these two chapters - absolutely nothing graphic or upsetting for your regular reader but just in case.

Fiona was working on her third cup of coffee and it wasn't even 8:00 am yet. It was Thursday, and normally she'd be on her way to work by now, but she hadn't gotten much sleep so she was moving slow this morning. Brian's phone call last night had tilted her world on its axis. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that he'd be calling to tell her that he had Sam Winchester in custody. Although that night in Millford, five years ago or so had changed her life forever, she didn't spend much time thinking about it anymore. Her life was good. She had a rich social life with close friends and family, she enjoyed her job managing the local bookstore, and of course spending time with Jonathan. Maybe life wasn't perfect, but she was pretty happy right now, at least she was until Brian called.

It wasn't fair to her older brother to be mad at him. Brian was loyal to a fault and he'd taken what had happened very much to heart. More so than any of her other brothers. She was kind of surprised that Colin or Declan hadn't called instead. Last night Brian had told her that he hadn't shared the news of the arrest with the rest of the family to give her a chance to think things through, but Kempville was a small place. Let's face it, by now the fact that Sam Winchester was in custody would be breakfast conversation in most of the households in town. All her brothers certainly would know by now. Fiona sipped her coffee. She considered calling Molly to see if her friend and co-worker could cover her shift this morning, but there was no point in hiding in her sunny kitchen any longer. It wasn't the first time that her life had been fodder for town gossip and she doubted it would be the last.

Pouring the dregs of her coffee down the drain, she rinsed out her cup and put it in the drain tray. She took a moment to dig her keys out of her purse and picked up her lunch bag. Locking the door behind her, she squared her shoulders, waved at Mrs. Thompson who was peeking at her from behind her curtains, and began the 15 minute walk to Main Street. As she walked she thought about what to do.

She could do nothing. The judge would come Monday and after everyone had hashed through the sensation of a short trial, her life would eventually go back to normal. Sam Winchester would be in jail and the whole mess would be irrevocably in the past.

She could try and convince her brother to spare her the indignity of a trial and all the ensuing gossip. But she knew her brother, Brian was unyielding at the best of times, and since he felt unreasonably responsible for what had happened, he would never just let Sam go.

Or there was the third option, one that could potentially destroy the life she had so painstakingly built. Her thoughts turned over and over in her mind until she was forced to stow them when she reached her destination. Unlocking the back door, she let herself into the store and began her day.

Fiona had started working at the place back as a teenager. The store, fancifully named "By Hook or by Book" was a labour of love for Bert and Mona Robertson. They had bought it as a retirement project and had spared no expense in renovating the building back in the late 80's. It was all dark, rich, woods, with a whimsical fishing theme and lots of comfy club chairs. For Fiona, it was a home away from home, and Mona was a dear friend and mother figure to her. Mona was a tiny little woman with a warm spirit and the energy of a firecracker. She had worked there everyday for almost 25 years until Bert had a stroke last year and she needed to spend her energy on him and not at the store.

Although the store didn't feel the same without Mona's presence perched behind the counter, Fiona still felt the familiar comfort as she went about her day. The thoughts that had been churning through her head were quieted with the simple, structured tasks of stocking shelves, placing orders, tidying displays and ringing up the occasional customer. When Molly came in at 2:00 pm, Fiona was more at peace with her plan of action. As much as she didn't want to, she knew she had to go and look Sam Winchester in the eye before she could make any final decision.

"Hey Molly, you already know that I won't be in tomorrow, but I need to leave early today. Are you okay to close up? The redheaded college student gave her a worried look.

"Sure. Everything okay, Fiona?" The younger woman was a good friend, but Fiona liked to get things clear in her own mind before she shared. She didn't intend to be mysterious, but she wan't ready to talk just yet.

"Yeah, of course. Everything is fine. I just...something unexpected has come up that I need to take care of. But you have a great weekend, and I'll see you Monday." Before she could change her mind again she gave Molly a smile, grabbed her purse and headed down the street towards the police station.

xxxxxxx

Sam sat facing the dull concrete wall across from his cot, but he wasn't really seeing it. His focus was turned inward trying to sort out his layers of memories. It still freaked him out to think that his brain and body were wandering around for 18 months without him. His memories from that time were muddled at best, scattered images or short snippets that didn't make sense. Sometimes he would see something and that would trigger a memory of a specific incident, but everything was jumbled and out of order, with no sense of timeline. Normally he tried not to poke around too much. The memories of the Cage were far more prominent than his topside remembrances. When he tried too hard to recall something during that time, he was more than likely going to have a severe flashback of blood and agony instead.

Last night had been humiliating. It had been a long time since he woke up disoriented, with memories so extreme and intense that he thought he was back in Hell. He looked down at the ragged cut on his palm. The pain had helped, but it wasn't until Dean showed up that he felt he could sort out real from unreal. Stone number one, Dean had told him in those dark days when the wall in his mind first crumbled. His brother was his stone number one, the cornerstone on which he'd been able to rebuild his life. If he was being truthful with himself, even now he wasn't sure he could manage without Dean. Sam dragged his unbloodied hand through his hair. What was he going to do?

Glancing over, he saw Deputy Shaw was at his desk, apparently over whatever illness had sent him home the night before. Although since the man kept popping antacids, Sam figured he still wasn't one hundred percent. Dean had been by to visit for a little while before lunch, but Shaw had never left his desk, so they really couldn't talk. Sam could tell that Dean was worried about him and getting frustrated. He wanted to break Sam out and head back home. Really, it was likely the only option here, it wasn't as if Sam was prepared to actually go to prison. But something was stopping him from giving his brother the green light. He heaved a sigh and went back to sifting through his memories.

xxxxxxxxx

"Brian, you're being ridiculous!" Fiona crossed her arms over her chest in frustration, but resisted the urge to stomp her foot. Something about her older brother always made her feel like a child. He was only 9 years older than her, but he acted like he was her father. Deep down, she knew it was only because he loved her, all her brothers did, but it didn't make it any less annoying. Brian just leaned back in his desk chair while Colin perched on the edge of the desk.

"Look Fiona, he's dangerous. Just last night he assaulted Marnie and managed to slice himself with a contraband knife. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to go anywhere near him." Brian sounded all cool and logical, but Fiona knew it was just his natural stubbornness at work.

"C'mon Brian. He's locked up behind bars." She wasn't above pleading a little. For some reason she had to do this. She had to see Sam Winchester for herself and face the memories of that fateful night.

"She's right you know, Bri." Colin said to his brother quietly. "He's hardly a threat from inside the holding cell." Fiona hid her shock. Normally the twins were pretty like-minded, so she was surprised Colin was backing her on this. She watched with bated breath while the two exchanged a significant glance. How they could have a whole conversation with just their eyes was a mystery the younger siblings had pondered forever. After a long moment, Brian stood up.

"Fine," he huffed, obviously not happy with being outnumbered. "I'll take you back there." He jerked his head towards the door and Fiona followed. She mouthed a quick "thank you" to Colin as she left the office.

Now that she was getting what she wanted, Fiona felt her palms grow sweaty. She had assumed that she would never see Sam again, much less have to face him and talk about what had happened. Nervously she wiped her hands on her slacks and took a deep breath. Brian walked her to within a couple of feet of the only occupied cell.

There he was, Sam Winchester. She sucked in a deep breath. He looked a little older, his hair a little longer maybe, but very much as she remembered him. He wasn't looking at them, in fact he seemed to be staring intently at the wall. His hair cast a shadow over his face, so she wasn't sure if he was ignoring them or lost in thought. She scrambled to think of a way to catch his attention and begin when beside her, Brian planted his feet and crossed his arms, obviously intending to stay. She grit her teeth.

"No way, Brian. Out! I don't need a babysitter." Glancing at Clive who was at his desk she added, "Or an audience. Both of you out, now." It was pretty bold to order around the sheriff and his staff in his own station house, but Fiona played the kid sister card and glared at him. Finally he rolled his eyes and gestured at Clive. The two men left the room, leaving her alone with the prisoner.

When she turned back towards the cell, Sam was looking at her with interest. Ignoring Brian's warnings, she moved closer to the bars and studied him. He was tall and broad, but he wasn't the giant of a man that she remembered. Maybe it was just that time that had passed. A memory of her small hand in her father's large one flashed through her brain. In photographs Dad was no bigger than Brian and Colin are now, but in her memory he was a towering figure. It was probably something like that. Of course Sam seemed different in other ways too. He met her gaze with an honest curiosity and an open expression that was nothing like the calculating stare she remembered. Suddenly she felt silly. Maybe he didn't recognize her because to him, what had happened was no big deal, just another notch on his bedpost. Maybe she was one of so many conquests that he couldn't be bothered with keeping track of individuals. She clenched her fists and sucked in a breath.

"My name is Fiona MacCallum. We met April 17th, 2010 at the Rusty Chain bar in Millford. Do you remember me?," she blurted, both eager for and dreading his answer. He stood and walked closer. Forcing herself to stand her ground, she let him look closely at her face. Looking for some sign of recognition, she watched his hazel eyes. She had forgotten their particular combination of blue green gold, even as she realized how much Jonathan looked like his father. Now those eyes she had distinct memories of, staring down from above her, his hair damp with sweat. Suddenly a flash of recognition smashed across his face. He gasped and stumbled back a few steps, his eyes wide.


	6. Chapter 6

As Sam looked into the eyes of the young woman who stood just outside the bars, dozens of memories slammed into the forefront of his brain. They were splinters, fragments really, but they hit with a visceral punch that had him staggering. Flashes of her face looking up at him, his lips crushing hers, the way her pale skin looked in lamplight, his hand knotted in her silky hair, the feeling of her smaller body pinned underneath his. The intensity of the images was accompanied by a remembered feeling of sexual domination, the pleasure of taking what he wanted from her, the sheer physical sensations. Sam felt sick to his stomach.

"Oh my god," he breathed. He met her eyes for a brief moment and he could feel a hot flush of embarrassment stain his neck and cheeks. Dropping his eyes, he shifted uncomfortably, unconsciously turning away and swiping his mouth with his hand. Nothing he'd just remembered proved his innocence. In fact, some of the memories suggested that the accusation was pretty damn valid. His stomach gave another lurch and threatened to return the lunch he'd eaten. Maybe he really was the monster he was accused of being? She made a small noise of surprise and he compelled himself to face her.

"I'm so, so sorry. I can't remember everything, but if I hurt you...if I…." he couldn't say the word as his throat tightened. "I am so, so sorry," he croaked. "Look, I...I know it's no excuse, but…I was really messed up then. I uh, I wasn't myself. I'm truly sorry." Running out of words he settled for staring at her feet as he twisted his hands together. He couldn't meet her eyes, he had no right to ask for forgiveness or provide any excuses.

For a long moment, he stood penitent in front of her, waiting for her to react. Part of him expected her to scream and rant at him, and if she did then he would stand and take it. He deserved it - hell he deserved worse. Another part of him expected her to flee, horrified by his very presence. What kind of man would ever force himself on a woman? What he didn't expect was the feeling of a soft touch on his arm. He glanced up at her. With the ghost of a smile, she gave his forearm a gentle squeeze, then stepped away from the bars.

"Thank you, Sam," she said, almost formally, then turned on her heel and left.

Once she was out of the room, he slumped back onto the cot. In his life he had done a lot of terrible things. In most cases he was able to live with what he had done because at the time he had thought he was doing the right thing. Or if not right, then certainly what was necessary - to save the world, to save his brother. But rape? That was something else entirely. He buried his face in his hands, his eyes wet with tears of grief and shame. How could he live with this? How could he tell Dean?

xxxxxxx

Fiona left the room and kept walking until she hit the street. Vaguely she heard Brian call to her, but she refused to stop. The whole day she had known that she needed to look Sam Winchester in the eyes. She needed to see the kind of man he truly was before she could decide what to do. Foolishly she somehow thought that she could take one look at him and like magic, all her doubt would be gone. But as she had looked into his hazel eyes, she didn't know what to do. She didn't see the man she remembered.

The Sam from back then had been cocky, confident, oozing an intensity and sense of danger she had refused to recognize even as it had drawn her to him. He had been amused with her teenage-like rebellion and he had called her "little girl" and mocked her for her innocence. The man in the cell today - well he was truly distressed. He could barely look at her and his words, even his body language was different from the man in her memory. Something had changed.

Deep in thought, she let her feet carry her home. If she hadn't been so preoccupied, she might have noticed the man slip out of Suzie Q's diner and follow her home, but she didn't. Instead, 10 minutes later, she turned up her driveway and let herself into the house, completely oblivious to the way her shadow slipped into the back yard. Dropping her keys and purse on the table, she kicked off her shoes. Grabbing a glass from the drain tray she filled it from the tap and took a long drink of the cool water. Putting the glass aside, she stood gripping the counter, closed her eyes and tried to still her careening thoughts.

After a few minutes, her shoulders relaxed and she pulled in a few deep breaths. Shoving aside her thoughts, she decided to go get into her favourite jeans, change her shirt and then think about dinner. She didn't see the man leaning against the kitchen archway until she turned. Panic flooded her, freezing her scream in her throat. Her pulse galloped to a crazy pace and she instinctively grabbed a spatula that had been in the drain tray. Not much of a weapon, but she thrust it at the stranger even as he held up both hands in a non-threatening gesture.

"Hey, easy now. I'm not going to hurt you," he said in a soothing tone. He seemed calm as he kept his hands where she could see them.

"What do you want?," she gasped, still too frightened to speak.

"Just to talk. I promise." The strange man kept his hands up but Fiona's heart was still pounding in her chest. She kept the spatula aimed at him and moved to put the kitchen table between her and the intruder.

"About what?" Her eyes darted towards the door outside, but there was no way she could make it across the room before he caught her. Her cell was in her purse which was only an arms length away from the stranger. She tightened her grip on her pathetic weapons and tried to stop her arms from trembling.

"Look Fiona, I'm sorry about barging in, but.." She cut him off.

"How do you know my name?," she demanded, her fear morphing slightly towards anger. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small stack of mail.

"I uh, raided your mailbox." He tossed the mail onto the table but otherwise didn't move. "My name is Dean Winchester and my brother is Sam. I swear, I just want to talk." He didn't look much like Sam, although they were both attractive. Dean seemed a little older maybe, but not by much. His features were slightly more delicate although he and Sam shared a similar jawline and hair colour. And his eyes were a pure green where Sam's were hazel. It was the earnest expression on his face that finally convinced her. Fiona huffed out a deep breath and slowly lowered the spatula. Dean took it as an invitation to continue talking and lowered his hands.

"I know what the Sheriff says, what he accuses Sam of having done, but I wanted to hear it from you. Five minutes, and then I promise I'll leave." He kept very still, obviously waiting for her response. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was only 3:45. Pulling out a chair, she gestured for him to do the same. As she sat the adrenaline rush began to fade and the exhaustion she had been fighting all day crashed back with a vengeance. Dean cautiously sat opposite from her.

"What do you want to know?," she demanded with a weary sigh.

"What happened five years ago? I need to know if Sam…," a muscle in his jaw jumped as he clenched it. "If he…"

"Raped me?," she finished quietly. He swallowed hard and nodded with a hard look. His eyes never left her face, although Fiona had no idea what he was hoping to find in her expression. Toying with the spatula, she debated for a second while Dean watched her anxiously. She didn't really want to tell the whole sordid story, to a stranger no less. But, she was so tired of feeling ashamed, of being the topic of casual gossip. Maybe it was time that someone other than her knew exactly what happened that night.

"No. No, he didn't."

Xxxxxxxx

Dean found himself able to breath again. He had known that his Sam, the one with a compassionate soul and a big heart could never force himself on anyone. But there had been a tiny sliver of doubt way down in his gut, because RoboSam, the guy who lied as easily as he breathed, who was fully on board with letting Cas torture a child, the man who had watched and smiled as Dean was turned into a vampire, that Sam, was capable of anything.

"So why does your brother the sheriff think he did?" Stifling his anger for now, he waited for Fiona to answer. If this woman had lied, there had better be a damn good reason for it. She sighed raggedly and rubbed a hand over her mouth.

"Look, your brother didn't force me to do anything, okay? I may have been young and naive, but I knew what I was doing. Still, I was ashamed at how I acted. Until that point I had only ever had sex twice in my life. I wasn't raised to be promiscuous, and I never wanted anyone to know what happened, least of all my family." It was embarrassing to admit that at 21 she had been so inexperienced, and it was humiliating to talk about her sexual indiscretion with a stranger. Her story seemed to piss off her visitor.

"So what? You regretted what you'd done the morning after and decided to accuse Sam of rape?" Dean bit out the question, obviously angry.

"It wasn't like that. I didn't actually say anything. Brian, Colin and the others just made the assumption and I…" this was the part she was most ashamed about. "I just let them think it. Sam had left town long ago by this point and I figured I'd never see him again." It was a poor excuse, but it was the only one she had to offer. Then the door opened.

"Mommy," Jonathan shouted and rushed over, slamming into her side as he gave her a hug. She wrapped an arm around her son and shot a fearful glance at Dean. Crap, he was home early.

"Hey sweetie! How was camp today?" Ignoring the man sitting across from her for now, she gave Jonathan a kiss and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. Her little guy smelled like grass and fresh air and poster paint, the later because of the art work clutched in his hand.

"I made this for you!" He shoved the crumpled painting into her hand and watched as she smoothed it out to look at it.

"That's awesome sweetie. Why don't you go put your bag in your room, okay?" Jonathan noticed Dean as he bent to pick up his bag from where he'd flung it when he had bounded into the house.

"Hi," he said shyly, glancing at Fiona for approval.

"Hi," said Dean softly.

"Get going now," Fiona said and gave Jonathan's backside a gently swat. He giggled and hustled out of the room. Before she could assess Dean's reaction, the door opened again.

"Hey Fiona, here's Jonathan's jacket, he left it in the car." Her brother Declan went to hand her the coat when he saw her visitor and stopped dead. She could almost see his protective hackles come up. "Sorry, I didn't know you had company." his words were polite, but his tone was full of questions. Fiona stood and took the jacket, folding it over the back of a chair.

"Thanks, uh Declan, this is Dean. Dean, this is my brother Declan." Dean rose to shake hands. Declan seemed reluctant, but he stuck out his hand. He gave Fiona a significant look.

"I know everyone in this town, and we've never met. So, how do you know Fiona?" On the surface the question was innocent, but Fiona knew better. She resisted the urge to smack her brother. Declan could be as subtle as a brick sometimes, but Dean just gave a casual, easy-going smile.

"Actually, we just met this afternoon." Fiona was impressed at how easily Dean evaded the intent of the question, but she needed to get her brother to leave before everything spun out of control. She tugged on his arm and practically dragged him back to the door.

"Well, thanks again for dropping Johnny off. I'll see you tomorrow." By this point she was practically shutting the door in his face. Once he was gone, she sagged against the door frame. Blasting past Dean, Jonathan thundered back into the kitchen. He stared at Dean for a minute then wrapped his arms around Fiona's legs.

"I'm hungry, Mommy." Generally Fiona didn't like to give him a snack so close to dinner, but today she was too overwhelmed to resist. Pulling a baggie of apple slices from the fridge she handed it to him and ushered him back into the living room.

"Mommy needs to finish talking to her friend, so why don't you watch some TV while you eat your snack." Johnny's eyes lit up at that unusual treat. Snagging the remote off the coffee table, he plopped down on the floor and was shortly absorbed in some cartoons. Dean had followed them into the room and had wandered over to the bookcase. He picked up her favourite photo of Johnny. In it her son was smiling adorably, dimples on full display, chin resting on one chubby fist. Dean looked at the picture carefully and then studied Jonathan. Fiona's heart sunk as she walked over and plucked the frame out of his hands. Dean jerked his head back towards the kitchen and she followed him there like a naughty child, clutching the picture to her chest.

"He gets those dimples from his father," Dean breathed.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean ran his fingers through his hair and tugged on it. Sam had a son! It was like a gut punch, but there was no mistaking those hazel eyes or those dimples. Jonathan looked an awful lot like Sam had at that age. Cute as a button with the dark curls and big eyes. Probably had the whole puppy dog look down too. The irony of the kid's name wasn't lost on Dean either, but that was hardly the most shocking thought in all of this. He swiveled back to Fiona who looked terrified. The pieces slid into place.

"You got pregnant. That's how they found out about your wild night out, right?" She hung her head before mumbling a muffled "yes" to the floor. Dean began to pace, unable to keep still while processing this mind blowing information. Holy shit! His little brother was a father! He was an uncle! He couldn't even begin to think about what this would mean to Sam, to their lives. He stopped. Fiona had seen Sam this afternoon.

"Wait, does Sam know?," he demanded. She fidgeted with the frame in her arms, still unable to meet his eyes.

"No, not yet," she stated, a plea in her voice. "Back then I had no way to reach him, and I figured he wouldn't care. And, to be honest, I wasn't sure I wanted that kind of man around my son." Dean's temper flared to life at her criticism, how dare she judge Sam that way.

"Sam is a good man, the best person I've ever known. He's kind and brave and crazy smart, and he's a freaking hero," he snapped from between clenched teeth. "You have no idea what he's been through. Your kid would be lucky to grow up to be half the man my brother is." Dean thrust his index finger at her with every point and she cringed under his anger. He glared at her before returning to his pacing in the tight space of the hallway. Fiona put out a hand but stopped short of touching him.

"Look, when I saw Sam today...he's not how he was in my memory, how I thought he would be." Fiona said softly. "He says that he doesn't remember exactly what happened back then. At first I thought he was just handing me a line, but... I could tell that he was honestly upset. He apologized. I didn't...that's not what I expected."

"Yeah, well that's Sammy. Always trying to make everyone else feel better." Dean shook his head, his anger melting away like an ice cube on a hot sidewalk. Really, he couldn't blame Fiona for not wanting the version of Sam she had known back then to be around her kid. At the time it was all he could do to be around the creepy ass, robo-version of his brother. But Sam was himself again, and he was a father. He deserved to know. Dean pivoted back to Fiona who was peeking into the other room to check on Johnny. He stepped closer and she froze in fear. Dialing back his emotions a bit, he softened his voice. He wasn't trying to scare her.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm not mad, not really. It's just, you need to tell him. Sam needs to know that he has a son," he said. She sagged against the wall as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. He felt pity for her, but this was non-negotiable. "If you don't tell him, I will." Dean laid down his ultimatum as calmly as he could. Fiona met his eyes, surrender written across her face.

"I know," she sighed, but then straightened and took a deep breath. "Tomorrow I'm going to tell Sam about Johnny. I'll also tell Brian that I was never raped. My brothers will never forgive me," she moaned. At his skeptical look she promised, "I promise I'll tell him. I swear, I'll make this right."

There was a loud rap at the back door before it sprung open. Brian, Declan and two other men pushed their way into Fiona's small kitchen. Dean's hand drifted towards his gun, but after the initial startle, Fiona seemed more angry than afraid. She left the hall to meet her brothers in the kitchen, and Dean followed her.

"What are you guys doing here?," she sputtered, hands on her hips. Brian gave Dean a dark look, but addressed his sister.

"Declan gave me a call. He was a bit worried about your…" he pursed his lips as he carefully chose his next word, "guest." Fiona bristled and spun on the offending brother.

"Well it's none of Declan's business who my guest is. Besides, if he had any concerns he could have just talked to me instead of dragging all of you over to my house." Declan looked slightly shamefaced, but he didn't bother to respond. Fiona pointed a finger at one of the men Dean didn't recognize. "And you! Ethan, I can't believe you went along with this." Disappointment mingled with the fury as she glowered at Ethan. The man in question threw his hands up in submission.

"Hey, it wasn't my idea, I was just with Colin when Bri called so I came with him." She glared at Ethan and shot a sour look at the last man.

"It figures, Brian calls, and you just come running Colin," she said, dripping with sarcasm. Dean smothered a smile. Fiona reminded him of an irate kitten hissing at a bunch of tom cats. She was so mad she was practically spitting. Colin seemed about to argue back when a small voice interrupted.

"Mommy, is eveything okay?" Jonathan was peeking around the corner at the assembled adults. Fiona immediately crouched down in front of her son.

"Everything's fine sweetie, Mommy and your uncles were just talking." She smoothed back his hair and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. Dean's heart gave a lurch at how much the little guy looked like Sam. He remembered doing the same thing to comfort Sammy when he was scared. Fiona's brothers all looked chagrined, and Declan crouched down next to his sister.

"Hey buddy. I know we were talking loudly, but everything is okay." Fiona shot him a grateful look. All her anger seemed to fade away and she tucked Jonathan up against her side as she stood, her hand resting on his thin back.

"Look, I know you all mean well, but I've got it under control. Now, it's getting late, and Jonathan hasn't had any dinner." She looked down at her son with a loving smile on her face. "So, I guess that means we need to order some...pizza! What do you say, Bug? Does pizza sound good?" The little guy nodded excitedly. Fiona looked at her brothers. "So if you want to continue this conversation, it's going to have to wait until after dinner." It was far from a request as she stared down each brother.

"Ethan, call in the order to Borroni's. Make sure you get something with some vegetables on it. Declan, get out some plates and napkins. Colin, call your wife and let her know where you are. Brian…." she huffed out a breath, seeming to run out of steam. "Just...make yourself useful."

Dean had been watching as the small woman ordered around her brothers. Someone else's family drama wasn't something he had much up close and personal experience with, so it was kind of funny to see. Until she turned to him.

"Dean, you're with me, c'mon." She began to usher her son out of the room, expecting him to follow. Dean froze for a minute, very aware of the irritable looks the other men were directing his way, but then he shrugged and did as he was told. The staircase to the upper floor was lined with photos of Jonathan. As a chubby baby, a smiling toddler, hugging a large white dog, dangling a fish on the end of a line, dressed as a teddy bear for Halloween, playing with a train in front of a Christmas tree. It was obvious that the child was adored by his mother and extended family.

When they reached Jonathan's room, it was painted in a jungle theme, complete with a stuffed menagerie of monkeys, giraffes, lions and other animals. Toys filled a storage unit at the end of the twin bed and a miniature desk with a large bookcase full of brightly coloured books lined the opposite wall. He hovered awkwardly just inside the door as Fiona pulled a set of pajamas out of a drawer. Jonathan clutched a plush elephant and looked up at him with familiar hazel eyes.

"What's your name?," the child asked. Dean scrunched down to get closer to eye level.

"I'm Dean. I'm...uh, I'm a friend of your Mom's." The little boy shifted his stuffie and with a very solemn expression, stuck out his hand. It was extremely adorable, but Dean just took his little hand carefully in his larger one and shook gently.

"I'm Jonathan," the boy intoned with the seriousness of a CEO. Dean stayed still as the little guy tilted his head and stared at him assessingly.

"Nice to meet you Jonathan," Dean said formally, trying to conceal his amusement. "Who's this", he asked tapping the elephant with a finger.

"That's Sebastian." With his thumb and forefinger, Dean gripped the floppy leg of the stuffed elephant and shook it too.

"Nice to meet you, Sebastian," he said as if it was the most normal thing in the world to treat a plush toy like a person. Jonathan burst into a huge smile that showed off his even teeth and adorable dimples.

"You're nice," Jonathan beamed. Dean had to grin back at the child's delight, giving a sheepish shrug to Fiona who was watching fondly.

"Come on, Johnny, let's get you cleaned up before the pizza comes." Nodding at his mother, Jonathan shoved Sebastian at Dean.

"Here, you can hold him while I have a baff. He doesn't like to get wet," he said in a loud stage whisper. Dean took the proffered elephant.

"I'll watch out for him," he promised solemnly. Following Fiona and Jonathan across the hall, Dean lounged in the doorway, the stuffie tucked into the crook of his arm.

In a moment, Fiona had Jonathan in the bath and was wiping him down with a soapy cloth. Unlike Sam, who had been determined to get as much water on the floor as possible at that age, Jonathan was cooperative and cheerful. He contented himself with playing sea captain of a toy boat while his mother shampooed his hair. Dean imagined Sam, leaning over a tub to wash the little guy, blowing shampoo bubbles and laughing the way Fiona was. It was a sweet but sobering thought. Sam was Jonathan's father, and Dean knew that his brother would want to be a part of his son's life. But what would that mean for them, as brothers? For the family business? Things had just started to return to some semblance of normal lately, but the last thing Sam would want to do is put Jonathan in danger.

Pondering what his recent discoveries would mean for his relationship with Sam, Dean zoned out for a few moments. It wasn't until Fiona called his name softly that he shook himself out of his thoughts.

"Dean?," Fiona said as she bundled her son into a big fluffy towel.

"Huh?" he stammered.

"I said, could you pass me his pajamas please." She stuck out her hand and Dean handed them to her. As she dried and dressed Jonathan, she started talking. "Thanks for hanging out up here with us. I love my brothers and I know they only want what's best for me and Johnny, but I don't need them to take care of me all the time."

"Well I'm sorry to break it to you, Fiona, but you're their kid sister. I speak from experience, they're never gonna stop trying to protect you." He spoke softly, very aware of his own failings in that regard. Right now, Sam was sitting in a jail cell for a crime he didn't commit while Dean hung out with the son his brother didn't know existed. Some big brother.

"Pizza's here!" Declan's voice drifted up from the bottom of the stairs. Jonathan held out a hand for his toy, and Dean handed the soft elephant over. The kid trundled down the stairs, one hand on the banister, but Fiona stopped in front of Dean before he could start down the stairs.

"I hear you," she acknowledged. She reached out and touched his arm briefly. "Please, come have some pizza. I promise I'll tell them after dinner once I've put Jonathan to bed, but in the meantime, I could use some moral support." Dean felt guilty, but nodded. Sam would be free soon and get a chance to meet his kid. Fiona confessing the truth to her brothers was the first step.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my readers and those who have left kudos. They really mean a lot.

The meal they brought him was delicious, but Sam didn't have much of an appetite. He ate mostly because Dean would give him shit if he didn't. So he made himself take steady bites, chew and swallow. The stir fry and rice was difficult to eat with the thin plastic spork they gave him but Sam really couldn't blame them for not trusting him with real cutlery. Not after what had happened the night before. Honestly, he'd palmed the butter knife almost out of habit. Being without a weapon of any kind made him jumpy. He'd never intended on butchering his hand with it. Regardless, he figured they weren't taking any chances.

When he couldn't bring himself to eat any more, he walked over to put the empty tray through the slot in the cell door. Deputy Black appeared to take it away before he could return to his cot. Her eye had darkened with a purple bruise and he felt another surge of guilt, but she addressed him kindly.

"You feeling better tonight?," she asked. He nodded at her but couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. Moving back to his spot on the bed, he absently listened to the conversation she was having with Deputy Shaw.

"Hey Clive, Kyle isn't back from that accident yet, Val is headed out on patrol and Sanchez won't be in until 7:00. If I clock out, are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah sure, Marnie, no problem. Is Shirley still here?"

"Yup, she's doing some filing, and Wayne's in the evidence lock up if you need anything."

"Sounds good, have a nice night."

"Yeah, you too Clive."

After that exchange, the cell grew quiet with just the occasional squeak from Deputy Shaw's office chair. Sam found himself thinking about what he should do next. How could he tell Dean that, despite his brother's faith in him, that he was most likely a rapist. Or apparently, he was when he was missing his soul. Shame ate at him, his dinner sitting heavy in his stomach. Of all the terrible, immoral things he had done soulless, this had to be one of the worst. He could only hope that Jody and Donna and the girls would never find out. Truly, he deserved to be punished for what he'd done to Fiona.

On the other hand, he had to figure out what to do about the Darkness, and he couldn't do that from prison. They couldn't just let whatever horrible power he'd released into the world run free. It had been his decision to have Rowena continue her work to remove the Mark of Cain - even after Dean had told him to stop. He wasn't sorry. Dean was worth any sacrifice. It's just...Sam didn't know how high the cost would be. All those people who had died in that town, at that hospital. By rights, he had to pay for that, but for now it wasn't fair to leave Dean to clean up his mess - especially with Cas far from 100%.

Thoughts churning, he struggled to figure out the right course of action until he heard a muffled gasp from across the room. Turing to look, he saw Deputy Shaw stumble from his chair, one hand clutching his chest and the other flailing for purchase on something. Sam jumped to his feet and went to the bars.

"Are you okay?" Even as he asked, he knew the answer. The heavy set deputy let out a deep moan and staggered a few more steps towards the door to the main station. Then, knees crumpling beneath him, the deputy dropped, knocking some papers onto the ground as he fell.

"Deputy! Hey, hey!," Sam called hoping to keep Clive conscious. The man just stared at him with frightened wide eyes and then tilted sideways and slid completely onto the floor, landing on his back. Sam pressed closer to the bars and shouted as loudly as he could. "Help! We need help back here!" After a moment he realized that no one was coming.

Sam dropped to the floor and reached through the bars. Stretching, his face pressed hard against the cold iron, he was able to get his fingers around the deputy's sleeve. Pulling as hard as he dared, Sam dragged the man by his arm towards the bars. Shaw's head lolled as he moved, but he was completely unresponsive now. Feeling for a pulse produced nothing and Sam's heart dropped. The deputy needed CPR - now! Pulling the key's from the man's belt, Sam quickly unlocked the cell and stepped over Shaw. He dialed 911 on the phone.

"Heart attack, police station. Send help immediately!," he shouted towards the receiver that he propped on the desk, even as he got on his knees beside the unconscious man. It had been a while since he'd done it, but Dad had been thorough in their emergency first aid training. Sam started CPR. How was it possible that no one was in the station? As he did compressed the man's chest, he shouted for help again and was relieved to hear the clatter of footsteps approaching.

"What are you doing? Get away from him!" It was the youngest of the deputies. Sam spared him a glance even as he counted compressions. The young man's gun was aimed at him with a hand that was far too shaky. Ignoring it, he continued his battle to save the older man's life. Hopefully the deputy would figure out what Sam was doing, but for now he had to focus. He heard the rookie fumbled with his radio. "Officer down, I repeat, Officer down. Prisoner is loose!" Sam was hyper aware of the weapon as the younger man brandished it at him more forcefully. "I said, get away from him! Leave him alone or I'll shoot," the deputy shouted. Sam closed his eyes and waited for the bullet.

Finally, he heard another person arrive. Sam opened his eyes and spared a glance towards the sensible ladies shoes in his peripheral vision.

"What's going…Oh my! Clive!" It was Shirley, the older woman who had taken his information yesterday. Luckily she seemed to have more sense than her colleague. "Wayne, put that away and get the defibrillator. Hurry!," she scolded the man as he holstered his gun and ran back out the door. She picked up the phone where the operator's tinny voice had been chirping for a while.

"Linda? It's me Shirley. It's Clive...yeah looks like a heart attack. Okay, tell them to hurry. Oh and can you call the Sheriff and let him know...okay, thanks." She hung up then, and kneeled on Clive's other side. She gave Sam an encouraging smile, then with a jerky tug, she loosened the deputy's uniform tie and began counting along with Sam.

xxxxxxx

As he pushed his mostly uneaten pizza away, Dean was very aware of three frustrated men sitting across from him. Johnny had fallen asleep over his dinner, worn out by a busy day at camp and bored by the stilted adult conversation around him. Declan had volunteered to put the little guy to bed leaving Dean with Fiona and her other three brothers. Fiona was absently picking bits of green pepper off her pizza slice while Brian, Collin and Ethan had given up all pretense of eating and simply sat waiting impatiently.

"Fiona, c'mon. What's going on?" Colin leaned forward and put a hand over the one Fiona had resting on the table by her plate. She took a deep breath and looked at him, speaking tentatively.

"So, uh...you know that Jonathan's father has never been in the picture." Brian practically rolled his eyes at that and Dean resisted the urge to punch him in the face. "And you know that Sam Winchester, is Jonathan's father." She paused as she visibly struggled to find some courage, her cheeks pink from blushing.

"Fi, we know all this," Ethan said gently, with confusion but obvious sympathy.

"What you don't know is that, I uh, went with him willingly that night." She rushed over the last words as if it hurt to spit them out. Her brothers all froze, an uncomfortable silence taking over the room as they each processed what she had said. Rubbing her arm, she examined the print on the tablecloth.

"Wait, what are you saying, Fiona?," Colin asked.

"Sam never raped me. I wanted to be with him." At that, she lifted her chin defiantly even as she looked nervous. Colin sat back in his chair blowing out a whoosh of air. Ethan covered his mouth with his hand in shock, but Brian just snorted.

"And we're supposed to believe that? Pretty convenient that you're just telling us this now - after he showed up." Brian was on his feet, pointing an accusing finger at Dean. "What did he threaten you with, huh Fiona?" Fiona shoved her own chair back with a screech.

"Nothing! I'm telling you the truth." She had her hands balled into fists. But Brian ignored her and circled the table towards Dean who stood to meet him. He didn't want to come to blows with the sheriff, especially not with Sam under his control, but Brian seemed angry enough to take a swing. Dean stood his ground as the furious man got into his personal space. He was trying to be patient here, but there was only so much shit he was going to take.

"What did you do, huh? Tell her you'd hurt Jonathan? Or take him away? You trying to get Sam off the hook?" His voice dropped to a horse whisper. "Do I have to remind you that one call to the FBI and you and your brother would be in prison so fast your head would spin?" When Dean merely stared back at him, then the man's temper flared. "You have no leverage, so stop trying to manipulate my sister!" The sheriff was livid, red faced and shouting. Dean put a hand on the man's chest and pushed him back a couple of steps. Colin grabbed his brother when Brian bristled, ready to attack.

"First of all, Sam didn't rape your sister, which I told you from the jump," Dean stated, his own voice rising in anger. "Secondly, you'd think finding out that Fiona wasn't raped at all would be a good thing. And third, if you'd stop treating her like a child and listen to her, you'd realize that nobody is manipulating anyone." Dean viciously spit the last words. His temper was up too by this point, but he was conscious of the child upstairs. Brian ripped his arm out of Colin's grasp and spun around to lean against the counter top, shoulders heaving as he struggled to regain control. Colin cast a sad glance at his twin.

"Look, I'm not trying to argue," Ethan said quietly, drawing their attention from where he still sat at the table. "But Jacob was there that night. He said you'd been drinking. We...we found you in your car - crying your heart out." The younger man sounded regretful at bringing up the painful memory. Fiona pushed some strands of hair that had come loose from her ponytail off of her face. She sighed and sat back down heavily.

"I know." Her voice was soft and sorrowful. "I'd had a few drinks, but I knew what I was doing, what was going to happen. I was so angry that night, and I wanted to make my own decisions, prove that I wasn't a child." She dragged a hand over her mouth and smiled ruefully. "Having unprotected sex with a dangerous stranger wasn't exactly the way to show how mature I was. Afterwards when I was in my car, I realized just how stupid and reckless I'd been. I was ashamed of myself, ashamed of what you'd all think of me." She hung her head, fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth. "That's what I was crying about."

Brian turned around, arms crossed against his chest. "Why are you telling us now? I mean if that's true, then why let us believe you'd been...Why lie to us for all these years." Dean was pretty good at reading a mood and Brian seemed more hurt than angry now.

"At first I was just ashamed. But then, when I found out I was pregnant, I was afraid. I knew you would all be so disappointed in me." Fiona's voice broke as she pleaded for understanding. Tears started to run down her cheeks. "Hell, I was disappointed in myself. And then when you assumed I'd been raped, Brian...everything seemed to snowball from there. I was going to tell you, but suddenly everyone in town knew and it seemed out of control...and it was easier to keep my mouth shut. I know I should have told you back then, but I just couldn't." She began sobbing in earnest now and Ethan came over to wrap an arm around his sister.

The kitchen was quiet except for the sound of Fiona weeping. Dean needed a stiff drink. This whole conversation was uncomfortable, and if it wasn't Sam's chance to know his kid on the line, Dean would have split and left them to their family drama. Colin was still, just watching Ethan and Fiona, but Brian had his hands wrapped around the back of a chair now, his head down between his rigid shoulders. Declan walked into the kitchen.

"Jonathan's asleep." He looked from one sibling to the other. "What's going on?" He went and stood by Fiona protectively as he addressed his question to Brian.

"Oh nothing much," Brian said bitterly, "just that Fiona's been keeping a secret. And it turns out that I've risked my job and my reputation because of a lie." He pushed off from the chair hard enough to make it bang against the table.

"Brian, c'mon," began Colin, reaching out to his twin. Brian pulled his arm out of reach.

"No! She -" He was interrupted by his phone ringing. Despite the tension in the room, Dean found it kind of amusing that the Sheriff's personal ringtone was Baba O'Reilly by The Who. Brian answered brusquely, obviously annoyed.

"MacCallum here. Hey Linda, what…? Damn! I'm on my way." He ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket, already grabbing his jacket. Sparing a glance for his family, "There's an emergency at the station." was all he said and then he was out the door.

"Wait, is it Sam?," Dean called after him, his heart dropping. Plucking his own jacket off the back of the chair he followed the Sheriff. When he'd broken into the house earlier, he'd parked around the block, but Brian had parked in front of the house, so he was already in his truck pulling away. "Dammit! He drove his fingers through his hair and started jogging towards his car.

"Wait up!," Fiona called from behind him. He didn't pause, but he did slow down just enough that she caught up to him as he rounded the hood to the driver's door. Pulling open the other door, Fiona met his eyes across the roof. "I don't know what Brian will do, but I want to tell Sam about Jonathan myself." Dean gave her a nod and they climbed into the Impala and he headed towards the station.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Today was a sunny day, and I got a lot of writing done over the weekend, so I'm updating early. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, review, offer kudos or simply set an alert for this story! Hopefully I can still post another chapter on Thursday.

A few minutes later, Brian pulled up to an uncharacteristically chaotic scene in front of the station. The ambulance was parked right out front by the curb, but squad cars and personal vehicles were littered haphazardly around the street. He wedged his truck into the closest gap and jogged towards the station. As he got closer, the front door opened and two paramedics came out wheeling a stretcher between them. Marnie trailed after them, obviously off duty in jeans and a t-shirt. Brian went to meet them.

"What happened?," he asked. He'd gone to school with Luke the lead paramedic, but he hadn't met his younger partner yet. The medics kept moving even as Luke answered his question.

"Heart attack. We've got him stable for now, but we're gonna take him to the hospital in Millford." Luke had skipped the niceties which meant the situation was pretty serious. "He's a lucky man. If that guy hadn't started CPR right away, he might have been gone before we got here." Brian looked down at Clive. His friend and colleague was very pale and still, the oxygen mask covering much of his face. He let the paramedics continue toward their rig and turned to Marnie.

"What happened?," he asked again. His officer straightened shoving her curly hair out of her eyes. The shiner from the night before was blossoming purple on her face.

"I don't know exactly, Sir. When I clocked out and headed home, everything was fine. I was just fixing dinner when I heard Wayne's "officer down" call, so I jumped in the car and headed back here ASAP." The woman paused, arms wrapped around herself as she gazed over his shoulder at where the paramedics were loading Clive into the ambulance. "Um, if it's okay, I'd like to go with Clive. Someone should sit with him until Lucy can get there." Clive's wife Lucy would be worried sick about him. They'd just celebrated their 30th anniversary. If Clive didn't make it...Brian refused to think that way.

"Of course, keep me informed. I'll send someone to escort Lucy." With a swift nod, Marnie dashed to the ambulance. He watched as she climbed in and they pulled out, siren wailing and lights flashing. Fiona and Dean Winchester appeared at his shoulder.

"Brian, was that Clive? Is he okay - what happened?" Fiona asked, obviously concerned.

"That's what I'm about to find out." Brushing by his sister and her new friend, he walked into the station. Wayne was sitting in a chair, eyes wide and his normally tidy hair a mess, as if he'd been dragging his fingers through it. Spotting Brian, the younger man glanced away, avoiding eye contact. Before he could ask the young deputy to report, Shirley called to him.

"Sheriff, thank heavens!" Shirley exclaimed rushing over.

"Shirley, what the hell is going on." The motherly woman patted at her pearls, obviously upset but keeping a level head. She wasn't a trained officer, but Brian had always found her to be steady no matter what was going on.

"I don't exactly know, Brian. I was in the file room when I heard Wayne yelling. When I got there, Clive was on the ground and the Winchester boy was out of the cell." She leaned in closer and lowered her voice, obviously trying to keep her words between them. "Wayne had his gun drawn, ready to shoot, but the boy was just giving Clive CPR." She darted a worried look at the young deputy who was studiously examining his fingernails, his shoulders slumped. Brian patted her shoulder gently.

"It's okay, Shirley don't worry. Why don't you call it a night and head home, huh?" She stared at him for a minute, but apparently she found in his face what she had been looking for because she swiftly retrieved her purse from her desk and took him up on his suggestion.

The rest of his team, except for Kyle were lurking around the station not so subtly watching him. It was time to get things back to normal, so Brian stepped to the middle of the room and raised his voice.

"I know everyone is worried about Clive, but he's in good hands. Marnie's with him, and she'll let us know when there's something to report. Meanwhile, Davis -" The deputy straightened and waited for his orders. "Please go over to Clive's house and drive Lucy to the hospital in Millford." With a brisk nod, he turned and left.

"Evans, let's get you back out on patrol, we still have a job to do." Val too nodded and headed towards the door.

"Sanchez, I'm going to need you to finish the paperwork on that burglary and staff the front desk for the night." With an acknowledging smile, the named deputy slid behind the computer and pulled a small stack of files over. Brian turned to Fiona and her annoying new shadow. Dean had been edging towards the door to the cell block, but Brian was determined to compete his assessment before letting the man anywhere near his brother. If Sam Winchester had hurt Clive - well he may not be a rapist, but Brian would be more than happy to turn them both over to the FBI.

"Fiona. Dean. Could you two wait for me in my office?" He phrased it as a question, but it was really an order. This was still his station and he was in charge here. Dean scowled at him and opened his mouth, but before he could complain or argue, Fiona tugged on his jacket. With a pointed look at him, the older Winchester followed her reluctantly to his office. Brian sighed.

"Wayne," he called. The young man jumped to his feet, his back ramrod straight. Dragging a hand over his hair and down the back of his neck, Brian went over to his officer. The kid was so scared he was practically shaking. "At ease, Wayne," he said as mildly as he could. "Just tell me what happened." Regret flooded the rookie's face, his lip trembled slightly and he kept his eyes fixed on the wall over Brian's shoulder as he reported.

"Yes Sir, I um, I was in the evidence room when I heard the prisoner shouting. I went to investigate and discovered the prisoner loose. He was kneeling beside Deputy Shaw." Wayne met his eyes then with a pleading look. "Sheriff, I thought he was hurting Clive, so I pulled my gun. I uh, put out the 'officer down' call. Then Shirley came in and we realized that Winchester was just performing CPR. I went to get the defibrillator, but the paramedics were already pulling up at that point." His voice tapered away, and Brian was reminded of just how young Wayne was. He looked like he'd been sent to the principal's office. The kid was a good officer, but at 23, he just wasn't very experienced yet.

"It's okay, Deputy, I understand." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Why don't you clock out, go home and shake this off." Wayne hung his head like a kicked puppy, and Brian softened his tone, putting a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "Wayne, I'm not mad. You got carried away in the heat of the moment, but we've all been there. No one got hurt. You're doing fine. Just go home, relax, and tomorrow we'll talk through what you can do differently next time, okay?" The young man quirked half a smile and jerked his head in acknowledgement. Brian gave his shoulder one last squeeze and gave him a little shove towards the door.

When Wayne disappeared, Brian suppressed another sigh. There was one more thing to check on before he could join the people in his office. The station was back to being the professional workplace it usually was. His feet reluctantly carried him back to the cell block. He had no idea what Sam Winchester had done, but he intended to find out.

Sam was back in his locked cell, sitting on the edge of the cot. Knowing now that he was innocent, or at least innocent of assaulting Fiona, the younger Winchester seemed smaller, less menacing somehow. Other than his size, Sam seemed far from the dangerous criminal his file painted him to be. Kyle was standing guard, but he glanced at Brian when he came in.

"How's Clive?," his deputy asked.

"Their taking him over to Millford General. He was stable before they left, so we'll hope for the best." They stood side by side and watched as the prisoner sat staring at the floor between his feet. Kyle was his right hand man, the person he could count on in any emergency, so it was a comfort to stand shoulder to shoulder. He was still the Sheriff and he needed to take command, but Brian let himself indulge in a minute or two of that calming camaraderie before he squared his stance and spoke.

"Kyle, I'm going to need to you to go finish up the report on that accident then check on Val on patrol." His friend nodded, but didn't move. "Go on, Kyle, the prisoner is secure," he said a touch more sharply than before. With a frown on his face, Kyle handed him the keys and walked out the door. Brian stood for another long moment, just watching Sam aimlessly pick at a loose thread on his blanket. Once he reviewed the surveillance video and seen exactly what happened, he'd determine what to do next about the Winchesters.

Knowing that Sam could hear him, he picked up the phone on the nearby desk, he called Clive's home number and broke the news to Lucy. He listened to her cry for a few minutes while a framed photo of the couple taunted him from Clive's desktop. When he heard Deputy Davis arrive to Lucy's house, he gently said goodbye, promising the full support of the Sheriff's office if she needed anything. Sam was obviously lost in his own thoughts or a else very good actor, because he didn't react at all to the phone call. Brian headed to his office in search of some answers.

When he opened the door, Fiona was peacefully perched in one of his two guest chairs, but Dean was pacing the small room like a caged panther. The other man stopped his prowling, itching for the argument that Brian could almost smell brewing.

"What's the hold up? You know Sam is innocent, so let him go." Brian recognized a certain big-brother protectiveness in Dean that felt familiar, so he let the hostile tone slide this time. Instead, he sat down behind his desk and steepled his fingers together.

"Dean," he began, forcing down his own irritation. "I'm not doing anything until I review the video and see exactly what your brother did tonight. So you can either sit down and watch it with me, or I'll have one of my deputies escort you out of the building." Brian waited while Dean made his decision. With a frustrated huff, Dean dragged a chair around the desk and plopped down near Brian.

"Fine, cue it up," he said somewhat sullenly.

xxxxxxxx

Dean's patience had been stretched to the limit, he needed to check on Sam. Worry gnawed at him. His brother had been tormenting himself with misplaced guilt and struggling to remember a horrific time in his life. Considering Sam - the real Sam - had been locked in Lucifer's cage at that point, undergoing torture beyond imagining, remembering was a very bad idea. Frankly, it was surprising that the kid was functioning at all. Getting Sammy out of his current cage was priority number one.

Dean wedged himself beside Brian as the other man pulled up the video, eager to see just what had happened. Knowing Sam, his brother had done everything he could to help the deputy. Maybe seeing that for himself would help the Sheriff move a little faster in releasing Sam.

Fiona perched on the side and leaned over with one hand on the back of her brother's chair. She gave Dean a tight smile. Dean had to keep reminding himself that even after Sam was released, they couldn't just high tail it out of here. Fiona had some news to share, a revelation that was going to be a hell of a bombshell for Sam. Discovering that he had fathered a child...that was going rock Sam to his core.

Brian clicked again and the video began to play. He expanded the image until the whole screen showed a surprisingly non grainy black and white image. The Sheriff had obviously sprung for some good equipment. Dean watched as Deputy Shaw clutched at his chest before staggering and falling to his knees. Despite the lack of sound, it was obvious that Sam had called for help before pulling the stricken man closer and getting himself free. He shot a quick glance at the Sheriff's face. Brian was frowning as he watched Sam get the keys, open the cell and telephone for help.

At any point Sam could have let himself out, taken the deputy's gun and run. Dean knew that Sam was about as likely to leave the innocent man to die as he was to grow wings and fly, but hopefully this would finally convince the Sheriff that his brother was a good guy. As the video continued, Dean found himself holding his breath when the rookie deputy pulled his gun on Sam. The deputy looked freaked out and trigger happy. Dean had to admire Sam's steady nerves while at gunpoint. When Shirley appeared on screen, he slowly let out the breath, releasing some of his tension. Thank god the older woman had some common sense. Leaning back he waited as the Sheriff stopped the playback when the paramedics arrived on screen and closed the program. For a long moment Brian just stared at the now dark screen. Dean was about to say something when the lawman nudged Fiona gently so that he could get to his feet. Rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, Brian addressed them both.

"Well, I guess that answers that question. I'm going to go release Sam." Dean jumped up, and followed the Sheriff out of his office, more than ready to go get his brother.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers - I gave you a surprise chapter on Tuesday and almost forgot to post today. Where is my mind going to these days? Anyway, enjoy!

When they walked into the holding area, Sam was sitting on his too small cot. Anyone else would think that he was fine, relaxed or even bored, but Dean knew better. Sam was barely holding on. He was chewing on his thumbnail, hair a mess from running his hands through it, and judging from the slump of his shoulders, Sammy was still agonizing over his supposed guilt. He didn't even look up as they entered, only pulling his eyes away from the floor when the Sheriff put the key in the cell.

"Sam Winchester, you're free to go," Brian said brusquely while swinging the barred door wide open. Sam frowned as he stood.

"What's going on?" he asked warily. He shot a glance at Dean to confirm. Dean smiled despite himself. Some things never changed. Sam might be a grown man, confident and skilled, but he still looked to his big brother for reassurance. Dean was happy to step into that familiar role.

"Yup Sammy, the charges have been dropped." Dean wanted to say more, but at this point, it was Fiona's show. She still had a lot of explaining to do to Sam.

"Why?," Sam asked, the Sheriff, obviously still hesitant at this unexpected turn of events.

"My sister told me the truth about what happened five year ago," was Brian's curt answer. "And now, you two have a lot to talk about." Brian pocketed the keys and walked the few steps to where Fiona was standing, absently wringing her hands. Fiona was pale and looked vaguely like she was going to be sick. Dean almost felt sorry for her. Brian put a hand on her cheek and spoke softly, his words barely carrying the few feet to where Dean was leaning against the wall.

"Fiona, it'll be okay. I'm still kind of mad at you, but you're doing the right thing." He gently tugged her into a quick hug which she eagerly returned. "I'll see you tomorrow." Then he brushed past Dean and went back to the main part of the station.

Fiona took a deep breath and wiped her hands down the side of her jeans. Then straightening her shoulders, she went to the cell door. Dean stayed where he was by the door. It was as much privacy as he was willing to give them. He needed to stay close because Sam might need him after Fiona revealed her big secret.

xxxxxxxx

She wasn't ready. Too many times over the past five years Fiona had laid in the dark, unable to sleep, running over all the myriad possible ways the conversation she was about to have could unfold. And now it was here. Sam Winchester was standing in front of her and she had to tell him the truth. She prayed that her whole life wasn't about to implode. She was so nervous her mouth was dry and her hands were sweating. Sam just looked at her curious and patient which gave her the courage to begin. She forced herself to clear her throat.

"Uh, hi Sam. Could I...could we talk for a minute?" To her own ears she sounded like a scared kid.

"Of course," he said, moving aside and gesturing to her to sit on the only surface in the cell, the cot. She picked up the folded blanket from the foot of the narrow bed and hugged it in her lap, finding some small comfort in having something to do with her hands. Several times she opened her mouth, but nothing came out until Sam perched beside her.

"What's going on, Fiona? What did you tell your brother?" Well at least his question gave her a brief distraction.

"Oh, um, I told my brothers that you never...that night when we were…" she paused as she struggled with the words. She could feel heat rush to her face and she kept her eyes on the blanket. "...when we had sex. I told them that you never forced me to do anything. I went with you willingly that night." Embarrassed, she risked a look at his face. Sam looked both sad and guilty. It was obvious that he wasn't going to automatically accept what she was saying, and that gave her back some of her determination.

"Um, Fiona, I...I really can't remember much but…" she cut him off before he could finish.

"It's true Sam. You may not remember it clearly, but I do. That night changed my life." It was Sam's turn to flush and he shuffled uncomfortably. Fiona chuckled at the unintended innuendo. It was one of the downfalls of growing up surrounded by boys. "No, I didn't mean it that way. It really did change the trajectory of my life."

"So, I didn't…" Sam stammered. Fiona put a hand on his arm, feeling his muscles tense under her fingers. She made herself meet his eyes.

"No, Sam. You didn't rape me," she said firmly, pushing past the ugly word and finding that it had no power now. As he studied her face, looking for the truth, she saw some of the pinched lines of worry ease from his forehead.

"Thank God," he breathed.

"But," she began again before she lost her courage, "there is something else I need to tell you."

He sat and waited for her to begin. She could see the tension in his arms as he clasped his hands tightly in his lap. With another deep breath, Fiona braced herself emotionally. Whatever was going to happen, she would find a way to deal with it.

"Sam, that night… Well, I was young and irresponsible, so we didn't uh, use protection." Her words were slightly stilted. This was harder than she imagined. She found herself watching him, his hazel eyes widened as his brain leapt ahead to the message she was trying so poorly to spit out. He jerked back from her slightly.

"Wait,...what are you saying?," he huffed out in a rush.

"What I'm trying to tell you is that I got pregnant that night and uh...we have a son." He pulled away completely and staggered to his feet, spinning to look down at her. Shock and fear fought for dominance in his expression and he was breathing hard. Dragging his hands up his face he tugged on his messy hair as he began to pace in the small space. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dean take a few steps closer but he paused when Sam stopped moving to look at her.

"Is the boy okay?" he asked with a tremble in his voice. It was an odd question. During some of her darkest nights, Fiona had imagined that he would call her a slut and deny that he was the father. Or that he would be furious at her, because she hadn't told him. Maybe even that he would make it clear that he wanted nothing to do with their child. Or worse, try to take Johnny from her. So the fear and anxiety in his tone was confusing to her. Why would he be worried? Still, she answered his question.

"Of course. He's a sweet boy, smart and curious. He loves to play soccer, and he makes up the cutest stories, and…" Sam interrupted her again, this time a little more forcefully.

"But...is he normal?" The question would have been offensive, but Fiona sensed a desperation and seriousness from Sam that was a little frightening. He was far more panicked than rude.

"Yes, Sam. He's a normal, healthy, energetic little boy." she said gently, a little alarmed at how freaked out Sam seemed. Her answer seemed to settle him a bit because he sat heavily beside her. His eyes were still a little wild, but he nodded to himself, scrubbing a palm down his face before burying his head in his hands. He shuddered out a long breath and Fiona felt a surge of compassion.

"Look, if you want to, you can meet him." She surprised herself. It wasn't her plan to have him meet Johnny just yet, but she supposed there was no point in waiting. Despite her fears, she felt a deep sense of relief that he hadn't rejected her or their son.

"I'd like that," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he twisted his neck to look at her. His eyes were damp. She patted his arm once again, then got to her feet. Dean had moved from his spot on the wall and was hovering at the door of the cell, trying to hide his concern at Sam's reaction. She addressed the two of them.

"Why don't you both come to my house for about nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Okay?" Sam seemed dazed, but he acknowledged her with a jerk of his head. Dean answered for him.

"Nine o'clock sounds good. We'll be there." Dean gave her a perfunctory smile, but his eyes were on Sam.

"Okay, we'll see you tomorrow," she said as she left. Hopefully Brian was still around because she was too exhausted to make the walk home. And truthfully, she could use some moral support. Feeling completely drained by the events of the past few hours, all she wanted to do was go home, see her son, and maybe pour a glass of wine and watch some bad TV.

xxxxxxx

Fiona was barely past him when Dean went to his brother. He sat down carefully beside Sam who looked pale and freaked out. Dean knew that the news would be a shock, but Sammy was taking it worse than Dean had expected. In fact, secretly, he had thought at least part of Sam would be pleased. After all, there had been a time when being a father had been part of Sam's plan. But Sam's hands were actually trembling slightly and Dean was starting to get worried.

"Hey," he said, leaning in to bump Sam's shoulder with his own. "You okay?" It took a minute for Sam to answer him, cranking up Dean's worry.

"Yeah, I just…." Sam's words trailed away. "Jesus, Dean. I have a son!" Sammy took a deep, if shaky breath and let it out slowly, a calming technique Dad had taught them as children. He was also reflexively rubbing the palm of his left hand across his jeans. The cut from last night hadn't healed enough to tolerate the rough fabric, so with each pass, he added a bit of blood to the denim. Dean gently grabbed Sam's wrist, halting the motion.

"Hey, hey, stop that. We'll figure this out, okay?" Emphasizing his words with a soft tug on Sam's arm, he tried to get through to his brother. Sam looked at him then, his eyes were shiny and blown wide with what Dean recognized as fear.

"Dean, what if he's like me?," Sam wheezed, his voice cracking. "What if...what if I infected him with demon blood? Or - I didn't have a soul at the time, what if that did something to him? Something wrong? What if I…" Dean broke into Sam's babbling before he worked himself up even more.

"Stop, Sammy. The boy is fine. I've met him, and although he's a serious little guy - kind of like you were at his age, there's nothing off about him." Sam just stared at him, eyes wild and chest heaving. An overwhelming feeling of love and protectiveness swept over Dean. His little brother was overtired, stressed out and looking to him for help. He'd be lying if he said he had all the answers, but his kid needed something hot to eat, a shower, and some sleep. Those were things Dean could provide. He stood up and pulled Sam up with him.

"C'mon, Sam. Let's get out of here." Not waiting for an answer, he made his way out of the cell, keeping a firm grip on Sam's arm until he was sure that his brother was moving steadily on his own.

He walked them quickly through the station pausing only to collect the small bag of Sam's stuff that one of the deputies handed him. Then they were outside and standing in the warm August evening. Inside, it had seemed later, but it was still early and the sun was just starting to sink in the sky. Some kids rode by in a blur of bright colored bicycles. The Impala gleamed a welcome and Dean wasted no time in opening the passenger door and giving Sam a gentle shove. As Sam got settled into the leather seat, he seemed to relax a bit. Dean leaned into the open door.

"I'm gonna go across the street and get some food to take back to the motel. Any requests?" His brother just shook his head. "Okay, then sit tight. I'll be right back." He shut the door with a familiar creak and headed to Suzie Q's. The slice of pizza Dean had eaten back at Fiona's seemed like a distant memory, so he figured he'd grab himself a cheeseburger and pick up something comforting for Sammy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday everyone. I have a busy day tomorrow, so figured I would post this tonight. Hopefully all my readers are safe, healthy and happy. Special thank you to those who took the time to review.

Standing under the spray of the shower, Sam revelled in the few minutes of solitude. Dean was in full on big brother mode, watching him eat his soup, casting what he thought were furtive glances at him while they watched some TV, and most tellingly, not bringing up the giant elephant in the room. Sometimes Dean's mother hen act rubbed Sam the wrong way. After all, he was a grown man. But not tonight. Tonight he was barely holding it together and it felt like Dean's steady, caring presence was all that was keeping him from breaking into a million pieces. Still, standing under the hot water gave him an opportunity to freak out a little bit without worrying his brother further.

A few tears washed away with the water. Relief that, even without his soul, he wasn't the worst kind of sick predator made his knees weak. He wasn't a rapist! But Holy shit, he had a son! And that idea was so big it had him reeling. He slid his wet hair off his face and closed his eyes, turning into the spray. Sure, a long time ago, when he'd been with Jess, he'd thought about being a dad someday. In fact he'd promised himself that if he ever had a child, that he would do whatever it took to be different than his own father. Time had softened some of the anger and disappointment he felt about Dad, but looking back on the choices the man had made and how they affected the trajectory of his life, there was no way he would ever repeat his father's parenting history.

He turned to try and let the hot water ease some of the stress from his shoulders, but it was pointless. Thinking about the little boy who shared his genes made him both terrified and curious. Fiona had sworn that the boy was normal, but what if he wasn't? What if Sam had tainted the kid - somehow passed on the Winchester curse and doomed his son? How could any child of his be normal - especially one conceived when he didn't have a soul? What if the kid was some kind of monster-to-be? Still, another part of him was curious and maybe even a little bit eager to meet the child. Did the boy look like him? Had he inherited Sam's love of knowledge and facts? Maybe the kid actually was normal? Was this an opportunity for the apple pie life he'd once longed for?

Panic threatened and he felt misplaced laughter bubble up. Swallowing it down, he slapped a hand against the tile and then bent to rest his head on his outstretched arm. Water ran down his back and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Who was he kidding? He was a Hunter. Finally, after so many years, he had accepted his life, found some kind of peace and satisfaction in the family business, Hell, he'd even grown to love parts of it. The apple pie life wasn't something he wanted anymore. Certainly not without Dean. He knew that now. The long, heartbreaking weeks when Dean had been a demon had been among the worst in his entire life. And then, he had almost lost his brother to the Mark of Cain anyway, just a few months ago. Never again. They'd barely gotten back to being brothers and there was no way he was going to risk losing Dean again.

A muted knock on the door had Sam lifting his head, rivulets of water poured from his hair and he brushed it back. The water was getting cool anyway, so he turned off the tap and tried to calm himself as he dried off with the scratchy towel. "Sam?," the knock came again.

"Yeah," he answered hoping Dean couldn't hear the tremor in his voice. "I'll be out in a minute." Smearing the condensation off the mirror with his uninjured palm, he stared at himself in the mirror. What the hell was he going to do?

With no answer to his own question, Sam shaved, brushed his teeth, combed his wet hair out of his face, and pulled on the thin sweatpants and tee that he slept in. He half expected Dean to be hovering right outside the bathroom door when he opened it. Instead, Dean was sitting at the small motel table with a beer in one hand and pensive look on his face. Sam sat tentatively across from him and took the second bottle Dean offered. They sat quietly in the dimly lit room. Sam sipped his drink automatically, wrinkling his nose as the flavour of beer mingled with toothpaste. The silence did little to soothe the rampaging thoughts in his head, but just sitting with his brother, doing something as normal as drinking a beer did provide some comfort. Then in a suddenly decisive move, Dean put down his beer with a clunk and sighed.

"So, what do you want to do, Sam?," he asked. Leaning forward, Dean was casually picking at the label on his bottle, but his energy was squarely focused on Sam. It would have been easy to toss out a lie and deflect the conversation, but Sam simply didn't have the energy to pretend. He knew exactly what his brother was talking about. He pushed his own drink away and matched Dean's sigh with one of his own.

"I don't know. This is just… I can't be a dad." He stood, and began pacing, driven to move despite his exhaustion. Dean watched him for a minute.

"So you wanna leave?" Dean's voice was determinedly neutral but the minute he asked, Sam knew he could never do that. "'Cause if that's what you want Sam, we can pack up and get out of here. Let sleeping dogs lie." Shaking his head slowly, Sam felt drops of water from his still damp hair spray onto his arm. He flopped down onto the edge of the bed across from Dean.

"No," he answered truthfully. "I want to see him." He couldn't walk away from his son, he probably should, the child would be better off without him, but Sam knew that he had to see the boy himself. Dean studied him carefully before draining his beer in one last swallow.

"Okay," he said with a hint of approval in his tone. "But then what?" That was the million dollar question, and Sam realized he didn't have enough information to even guess at an answer. He resumed his pacing in the small space.

"I don't know!," he said again, frustrated and instantly angry. "I can't just take off - I have a responsibility. I don't want to be the kind of father who disappears on his kid. I don't want to be like Dad." Sam caught a glimpse of Dean's face and saw the flash of familiar hurt and regret that appeared whenever he mentioned their father. Deep down, he knew that no matter how badly Dad had screwed up with them, that their father loved his sons. And this frustration wasn't really about Dad, this was about his own fear and indecision. The spark of his anger fizzled out as quickly as it came.

"Sorry, Dean." He apologized for snapping at his brother. "I don't...I don't know what to do. I don't want to be just a name on a birth certificate. But with our life…? How can I drag a kid into what we do. I just...I'm not sure what's right, you know. God, what am I going to do?" And with that final moan, he sank back down on the bed and buried his face in his hands, hopeless and heavy. His brother quietly rose and sat down close beside him.

"Look, Sammy," Dean began in that soft, comforting tone that Sam had so often clung to. "Trust me, I know how whacked out this is." A memory slammed into Sam, knocking the breath out of him for a moment. How could he forget killing the young girl who had been his niece? Dean knew exactly what it was like to be an unexpected father. Except he never even got the chance to find out what might have been. And that was Sam's fault. Emma, and how she had died was a painful subject, one of the many things they never discussed. Guilt flooded Sam, and once again he had to marvel at Dean's ability to handle whatever their crazy life threw at them. And at how easily Dean had forgiven him for the necessary, but unforgivable act of killing his daughter. He opened his mouth to apologize, or say something, but Dean continued before he could get the words out.

"But, you don't need to figure it all out tonight. Tomorrow you can meet the kid. Then you can decide what you want to do. Start from there, okay? Just...whatever you decide Sam, I've got your back." Sam was so grateful for his brother's unflagging support that his throat closed up with emotion. All he could do was nod and offer Dean the ghost of a smile while he felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes. Dean smiled back.

"Okay." Dean slapped his thigh lightly and gave him a little shove. "You look like you've got suitcases under your eyes. You need to get some sleep before you fall down, so get off my bed, Gigantor and climb into yours." Dean got up and dug through his duffle to get his own pajamas, so Sam did what he was told. The impact of the past few days, the deluge of emotions, and the lack of sleep washed over him, and he yawned deeply. Crawling underneath the sheets, he could feel sleep begin to drag him under even as Dean made his way into the bathroom.

"Thanks Dean," he said with a yawn, closing his eyes.

xxxxxxx

The next morning they sat in the car outside Fiona's house. The house itself reminded Sam of the woman who owned it. Small, neat, unpretentious, but well taken care of, the lawn freshly mown and the light blue paint on the siding clean and crisp. Yet, he'd have less anxiety walking into an abandoned warehouse full of monsters. Dean had left the car running but Sam was bouncing his knee nervously, hard enough to make Baby shake slightly. He couldn't help it. Beside him he heard Dean chuckle, and spared his brother a glance.

"What?," he asked absently.

"Sam, you look like you're going to face a nest of vamps, not one 4 and bit year old little kid. It's not that bad." Dean shot him what was probably meant as a comforting smile, but Sam still found himself chewing his thumbnail and staring at the house. "Look," Dean said. "If you want, we can just drive away…" Sam shot him a dark look before he could finish, but Dean's offer of escape seemed to break his paralysis. He appreciated the gesture, but he knew what he needed to do. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to push open the door and climb out of the car. Turning off the engine, Dean did the same and they walked up the front path.

Before they even knocked, Fiona opened the door with a smile.

"Hi, you made it." There was a small element of surprise to her comment, like she half suspected that they wouldn't show, but she opened the door widely and let them in. "Excuse the mess, we're getting ready for our annual family reunion at the farm." Once she'd shut the door behind them, they stood awkwardly in the small hallway. Fiona had a kitchen towel slung over one shoulder and her long red hair was in a ponytail, a few loose strands curling around her face. She scrubbed her hands on her thighs and broke the uneasy silence.

"So, uh Jonathan is in the living room. Why don't I introduce you." She turned to lead the way. Nerves were eating Sam alive but he followed her the few steps towards the other room, Dean a steady presence just behind him.

The living room was fairly small, but comfortable. A grey couch was facing a wall unit with a TV and lots of pictures, books and knick-knacks. There was also a couple of solid looking arm chairs and a sturdy wooden coffee table.

"Hey ya Bug. There's someone I'd like you to meet" said Fiona. A small figure obediently darted out from behind the sofa and Sam found himself holding his breath.

His son had dark brown hair that curled around his ears and bounced when he moved. Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt emblazoned with a grinning dinosaur, the little guy looked tan and healthy. Leaning back against his mother's legs, the boy tilted his whole body back to see Sam's face. Instinctively, Sam crouched down and offered him what he hoped was a warm smile.

"Jonathan, this is Sam. You remember Mommy's friend Dean who came to visit yesterday?" Eyes darting toward Dean, the child nodded then stared back at Sam. "Well Sam is Dean's brother."

"Hi," Jonathan said a little shyly, then he stuck out a tiny hand. Sam felt his heart surge as he gently shook the offered limb. Serious eyes locked with his and he felt a shock of recognition. If he'd had any doubts that Jonathan was his son, they were gone as he gazed into eyes so like his own weird mix of blue and green.

"Hi." Sam finally remembered to respond. The breath he'd been holding escaped in a slow silent hiss. Fiona crouched down beside the boy, one arm around his thin shoulders. She looked nervous.

"Johnny, honey…Sam is your Daddy." Jonathan looked at his mother, then looked back at Sam, eyes narrowing as he cocked his head to one side. Pondering this new information didn't take long. The kid smiled at him, his cheeks dimpling adorably.

"You're tall," he said matter-of-factly before tipping his head back towards Fiona. "Can Sam play with me?"

"Sure Bug," she laughed, standing to let him go. Sam rose too and Fiona gave him a little nod before he followed his son to the sofa.

Jonathan climbed up on the seat where a lopsided jumble of throw pillows and toys surrounded a stuffed elephant. Sam dropped to his knees, careful to not disrupt anything while Johnny plucked a red and green action figure from amongst the cushions.

"So, the bad guys took Sebastian. They wanna put him in a zoo," the boy explained earnestly while fishing out another action figure, this one blue and yellow and handing it to Sam. "We're super heros and we gonna rescue him. I'll show you how."

Apparently the plan to save the grey, floppy stuffy only required Sam to hold his toy hero nearby as Jonathan made whooshing noises and swooped his figure around their heads. That was probably just as well because Sam was completely overwhelmed with emotion. He'd met his son less than 3 minutes ago and yet he knew he'd never be the same again. It was as if a portion of his soul was healed, a hollow space filled. This child in front of him was perfect and amazing. Cute as a button, charming, smart and full of innocence and potential. Frankly, the boy was a miracle, one that he thanked God for with a silent prayer.

He added a second prayer for protection as fear surged through him. This boy could be a target for anyone or anything wanting to hurt him now, and the urge to protect his son was so strong that he felt lightheaded. He would do whatever it took to keep the kid safe.

Fear was followed quickly by despair. There was no way that he could shield the child, and still do what he needed to do. Wouldn't it be better to leave to try and protect him and his mother from the dangers of his world? But how could he abandon his son?

It was an impossible problem and he had no idea what he was going to do. As Jonathan played, Sam pushed aside his worries and just marveled in the joy of his son.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a slightly longer as we meet more of the MacCallum family. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read. Feedback is always appreciated.

Dean leaned against the counter and worried his lower lip with his teeth. From this spot, he could keep an eye on Sam. Although his brother was damn good at hiding his emotions around strangers, he could tell that Sam was rocked to the core by meeting his kid. In his own brain, thoughts kept spinning, trying to figure out what Sam needed, trying to think about what was best for the child, trying not to freak out about what Sam's decision could mean for him. That was on top of his concerns about Cas and the Darkness and everything else. Shaking his head, he pushed his worries aside and paid attention to what his hostess was doing. Fiona was bustling around the kitchen pulling things out of cupboards and the fridge. She seemed to be emptying half her kitchen onto the table when she looked up at him.

"Sorry, I'm really behind. I was supposed to have this all ready last night, but…" she let her words fade out. Obviously, despite her friendly and calm demeanor, she was about as stressed as he was.

"What's all this stuff for?" Dean let his natural curiosity distract him from his whirling thoughts. Fiona sighed and put a hand on her back, stretching.

"Each year the MacCallum clan gathers at Colin's house for a family reunion. It's a tradition - everyone who can, comes and stays over for the long weekend. I usually help out on the Friday to get the food ready and set up." She dragged a hand across her hair, smoothing down some tendrils that had wanted to come loose from her ponytail. She glanced up at him. "Maybe you could help me load some of this into my car?," she asked hopefully.

"Sure," he agreed easily, although how she planned to fit everything into her little silver Honda, he had no idea. Spying and smelling a coffee pot, he gestured towards it. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, of course not, I could use another cup too." She sprang towards a cupboard and pulled out a couple of mugs. Hesitating she asked, "Do you think Sam would want some?" Dean leaned back and peeked into the living room.

"Nah, he's good for now." A minute later he was holding a fragrant cup under his nose. The coffee had cooled a bit, but it was hot enough and he savored the first sip as he watched Fiona. She stirred a bit of cream into her mug then pulled out a chair and sat. They drank in a comfortable silence for a while and Dean felt kinda nostalgic at the domestic scene. There had been many mornings when he'd sipped coffee in Lisa's tidy kitchen watching the controlled chaos of Ben and Lisa getting ready for school or work. Part of him envied Sammy. His brother had another chance at that apple pie normal life he'd always wanted.

Just as it had the night before, the back door sprung open. Only this time instead of Fiona's brothers, a woman poked her head in.

"Hey Fiona, I had to come into town for a new element for the oven and I thought I'd come by to give you a hand." She spotted Dean as she walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. Dean straightened unconsciously. This woman had an unmistakable no-nonsense vibe. The assessing look she gave him reminded him of the way his Dad would give him a visual once over before a hunt. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her curly dark hair was pulled away from her face with a headband. She was fit, and could be anywhere from 30 to 40 years old, but her eyes made Dean estimate on the older side. Cocking her head she stepped closer and dropped her keys on the counter.

"So, are you Sam or Dean?" she asked bluntly. Fiona jumped to her feet and stood between the woman and Dean.

"Hi Sharron, uh, this is Dean. Dean Winchester." She seemed hesitant as if she was uncertain how Sharron would take that news. But the woman in question just grinned at him and he found himself relaxing back against the counter, crossing his feet at the ankles.

"Well Hooyah, aren't you a looker!" She smirked at Fiona and then back at Dean. "Johnny's good looks obviously come from his father's side of the family." Laughing at Fiona's indignant sputtering, Sharron found a mug and poured herself her own cup of coffee. She matched Dean's casual pose. "So, what's the latest?" she asked with enthusiasm and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Is the mysterious Sam here, or does Brian still have him under lock and key."

"Nah, he got sprung last night," Dean answered. He liked this bold woman, she had an authentic vibe about her that reminded him of Sheriff Donna. Fiona nodded in agreement and spoke up quietly.

"Sam is with Jonathan in the living room." Sharron put down her mug and wedged into Dean's personal space to peek around the corner. Ducking back she gave Dean another approving smirk.

"Dang, do you boys model in your spare time?" Dean felt a slight flush creep up his neck even as he snorted a laugh and he hid his reaction with his coffee mug. Sharron retreated back to her own patch of counter and took a slug of her own cup of joe.

"You getting tired of my brother, Sharron? Figure you can dump Colin and find greener pastures." Fiona was obviously joking, but all amusement dropped from Sharron's face and she practically glowed with a peaceful happiness.

"Never, honey. Colin is my one and only, forever. I wouldn't trade him for anything. Marrying your brother was the best thing I ever did." Then she laughed again. "Besides, who else would want a loud mouth, zoomie like me!" Still chucking, she took another slurp of her coffee. Sharron stared at Dean over the rim of her cup and he met her frank gaze. She tapped her fingers on the counter and then apparently made a decision and nodded to herself. "Hey Dean, you and Sam should come out to the house and stay for the weekend." Fiona put her mug down.

"Sharron," she admonished her sister-in-law. "I..I uh don't think they want to deal with all our family craziness." She shot Dean an apologetic glance, but Sharron just thunked her cup onto the counter and put her hands on her hips.

"Why the hell not? Sam is Johnny's Daddy, Dean is the kid's uncle. They're already part of this crazy family now anyway, they might as well jump into the deep end." She shrugged and continued. "Besides, it would be nice to have some good looking bodies in the mix to help keep things balanced." Giving him a wink and a welcoming smile, she crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back. Dean was ready to immediately decline when Fiona turned to him with a hopeful look on her face.

"Um, did you want to come meet everyone? You don't have to stay if you don't want to, but it would be great if you could be there." Dean was surprised. Considering that it hadn't been 24 hours since Fiona had come clean with her brothers, he figured Fiona would be hesitant to include them so quickly into her close knit family. Then again, maybe she was just looking for some backup. And anyone who met Sam in person would know without a doubt that he was a good guy. Of course spending time with a crowd of people wasn't something he or Sam really did well with. He took a swallow of coffee to give himself time to think.

"Well, uh, it's up to Sam really," he said. Just then Jonathan ran into the kitchen and flung himself at his mother, giving her an awkward but enthusiastic hug.

"What's up to me?" Sam appeared at his shoulder. Dean gave his brother the once over, the worry lines on Sam's forehead were still there, but he looked less freaked out than he had when they arrived. Before he could answer, Sharron wiped her hand on her jeans then stepped forward to introduce herself.

"Hi Sam, I'm Sharron, I'm married to Fiona's brother Colin." She shook Sam's hand and kept holding it, then with a smug look at her sister-in-law, she continued. "Fiona and I were hoping you and your brother could join us at our family reunion this weekend." Her invitation was made in earnest and Dean found himself holding his breath. Like it or not, Sharron was right. Sam was connected to this new family - or at least he could be if he chose to be. As much as Dean was nervous about what his brother would ultimately decide, he didn't want to add more to Sammy's burden. Sam met his eyes and Dean worked hard to keep his expression neutral.

"Well, if you're sure, yeah that would be great. Thanks for including us." Sam was gracious as always. Sharron released his hand and clapped hers together, back to business.

"That's fantastic. Alright, then let's get a move on! Dean, why don't you go back to the Bide-a-Wee and pack up your gear for the weekend. Meanwhile, Sam can help load up the cars. Then we can pull chocks and you guys can follow us out to the house." Before even waiting for an answer, Sharron picked up a box of hamburger buns and condiments and plunked it against Sam's chest.

"Yes Ma'am," Sam said and Dean couldn't help but crack into a smile.

xxxxxxxx

The little caravan of cars rolled through the warm morning, first Sharron's battered Jeep, then Fiona's small Honda, then the Impala. It was just before noon and the car was getting hot. The rolled down windows did little to alleviate the heat, but the road followed the path of the Kemp river and Sam every once in a while got a slightly cooler breeze off the water. It was a nice drive. 30 minutes out of town, across the bridge, then another 15 or so. Sam ignored how Dean was sending him looks every few minutes and just tried to enjoy the beautiful summer day and the lush farmer's fields around them.

The Jeep pulled into a tree lined drive and the other two cars followed. Under the trees, the air was fresh and when they cleared the last stand of trees, Dean let out a low whistle.

"Damn Sammy, this is quite the place they've got here."

Dean wasn't wrong. The lane opened up to reveal a large sprawling farmhouse with a wrap around porch. There was a big barn to the right behind a well kept lawn. In front of the house was a long tent like they used for weddings. Down a short lane on the left was another small house, whitewashed and cheery. A couple of other large outbuildings came into view as they followed Sharron and Fiona around behind the main house. Dean parked beside the Honda. and Sam climbed out of the car. Fiona was unbuckling Jonathan from his booster seat, so he walked over to help carry everything inside.

His arms piled high with boxes and bundles, Sam followed Sharron through the back door of the house. The kitchen was bustling with women. He put down his items where Sharron pointed and Dean and Fiona did the same.

"Ladies, I'm back!," called Sharron in a sing song voice and a small cheer greeted them all. "And I brought reinforcements! This is Sam and his brother Dean." The women made a polite murmur of welcome, but Sam could see some confusion on their faces. He shifted uncomfortably, not used to being the center of attention. Dean crowded beside his shoulder, a comforting presence, and Fiona squeezed by them both to stand in front. She took a deep breath and shot him an apologetic glance.

"Hey everyone. I'm sure the family grapevine has been running hot, but in case you didn't know Sam is Jonathan's father." A different kind of murmur began and some of the confusion shifted to surprise. "He and Dean are going to stay for the weekend and get to know the family." She paused to smile at the women who were now giving Sam their full attention. "So be nice!," Fiona commanded with a small laugh. The oldest woman rose from a nearby chair and offered her hand to Sam. Instinctively he shook it carefully, but she put her other hand over his, keeping him from moving.

"Hello Sam. I'm Fiona's aunt Kathleen. I'm delighted to meet you." She nodded at Dean. "And you too young man. Welcome," she said warmly, her brown eyes beaming in her apple doll face. "Since I'm the oldest, I'm going to insist that you help me." She pointed him towards a sink where he quickly washed his hands. Dean grinned at him until Sharron slapped a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Dean, how are you at replacing oven elements?" His brother followed Sharron to the other side of large kitchen were the ovens were. Sam turned his attention back to Kathleen and tugged him towards the table where she had been peeling potatoes. Once they were seated, she handed him a knife and pointed him towards a cutting board.

"Here you go. If you could just chop these up while I peel, and then put them in that bowl." She placidly turned back to the task of peeling as Sam tried to get comfortable. "So Sam, I understand that you didn't know that Jonathan existed until yesterday?" Kathleen's voice was calm and conversational as she handed him a freshly peeled spud.

"Yes Ma'am," Sam said respectfully. He guessed that her approval was important in this family and he unexpectedly found himself wanting to earn it.

"Please Sam, call me Aunt Kathy - everyone does." She patted his arm and handed him another potato. "We've always understood that Jonathan was conceived under…unpleasant circumstances," she paused and Sam felt his face flush. He bent forward and chopped the vegetable in front of him with more concentration than was warranted. She continued placidly, "I'm so pleased to learn that this wasn't the case. My niece was wrong to lie, but I hope you can find it in you heart to forgive her." Sam looked up and met her eyes. He saw only compassion, wisdom and an acceptance that he didn't feel he particularly deserved. Emotion unexpectedly clogged his throat, so he nodded, not trusting his voice. Of course he forgave Fiona, how could he possibly blame her for the choice she'd made, especially considering his own colossal track record of bad decisions.

"I'm sure finding out about your son was a shock, so I hope you can get to know him, and the rest of us this weekend." Aunt Kathy handed him another potato and then wiped her own hands on a kitchen towel. "So, let me point out who everyone is." Sam finished the last potato and wiped his own hands. He swiveled in his chair. The rest of the people had gone back to their tasks and the hum of happy conversation filled the room.

"So, you know Sharron and Fiona already. The blonde by the sink is Sharron's sister in law, Heather. Nice girl. She's married to Sharron's brother Joey. They've got three children. You'll get to meet them tomorrow." Heather was a pretty woman maybe a little younger than he was. Makeup perfect and her clothes fashionable, she never the less had her sleeves rolled up and was working diligently. Sam made a mental note as Kathy continued.

"The woman chopping the cabbage is my daughter Kate, Fiona's first cousin." Kate was Dean's age, or a bit older. She had a capable, Mom vibe. "The young lady beside Kate is my granddaughter Savannah. That child is 15 going on 30," Kathy said affectionately with a shake of her head. Savannah looked every bit the bored teenager, lounging against the counter, working halfheartedly. "Savannah's Dad Alan, and brother Peter will arrive tomorrow."

"Next to Kate is my other daughter Alicia. She's the baby of my family." Alicia was a pleasant looking strawberry blonde. "She married a lovely man named Carlos. Between Kate and Alicia is my son Dennis. He and Carlos are floating around outside somewhere." Aunt Kathleen leaned back in her chair. A sadness crept over her that suddenly made her look older. "My husband George passed away about 5 years ago."

"I'm sorry," Sam said sincerely. He liked Kathy, she was a sweet person and he appreciated the way she went out of her way to help him get acclimatized here. He had often imagined his own grandmother Deana in a similar way. She smiled at him and patted his arm again.

"Thank you dear. We had 42 wonderful years together, but I miss him everyday." She sighed softly and then cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders obviously tucking aside the sadness. "So how about you Sam. Tell me about your family." Normally this was a question Sam avoided, but he found himself opening up to this kind-hearted woman.

"Well, there's not much to tell really. It's just my brother and I. My mother died when I was a baby, and my Dad passed about nine years ago." Something about this woman made him say more. "Dad traveled a lot, so Dean pretty much raised me." He instinctively glanced across the kitchen to find his brother. Dean had his head and arms deep inside an oven while Sharron handed him a tool and unabashedly checked out his ass. Sharron noticed him looking and waggled her eyebrows at him. Sam had to sputter out a laugh but Kathleen just tutted her fond disapproval.

"That woman is shameless. I've no idea how Colin ended up with such a rascal." Dean shimmied out from the oven and Kathy's face turned serious again as she looked at him. "I'm so sorry about your parents, Sam. You probably already know, but my sister Margaret and her husband William were killed in a car crash when Fiona was 14. George and I were prepared to take her, but her brothers stepped up so that they could stay together." She eyed Dean again. "I have a lot of respect for your brother, to take on such responsibility at a young age."

Sam watched Dean climb to his feet and wash his hands. Aunt Kathy had no idea just how much appreciation and approval his brother deserved. There was no way he could be even half the parent that Dean had been to him. He could only hope that as he grew to know his son, that Dean's unflagging example could be a guide.

The talk then turned to the work at hand and minor family gossip as the MacCallum women caught up with one another. As some point Colin had arrived home, kissed his wife on the cheek and commandeered Dean for some task outside leaving Sam alone in the kitchen full of women. It felt strange, but nice. He wasn't used to being around women very much, their occasional visit to Jody and the girls the sole exception. The friendly chatter demanded nothing from him, but as pleasant as it was, when his hands were free, he took the opportunity to slide out of the warm kitchen in search of his brother.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean and Colin were making their way to the large barn so Sam jogged over to join them. Colin was explaining the property.

"So my great-great-grandparents built the house. This whole spread was a full working farm back then. My grandparents sold off most of the livestock and part of the land when Grandpa got back from the war, but they raised my dad and his brothers and sister here. When my parents got married, they had the little house built for Grandma Mary and Grandpa Joe." Colin pointed out the quaint house partway down the lane before continuing. "Then, Mom and Dad renovated this barn when Ethan was born. I think they just wanted some peace and quiet," he chuckled, even though Sam wasn't clear why.

Then the mystery was solved as they entered the structure. The barn had obviously been completely retrofitted as the place was comfortably cool, with tight fitting windows and drywall painted a light green. The centre of the space was framed in to be much smaller than the structure, although still an expansive room. It was obviously a well loved living space full of sturdy furniture and some mismatched lamps. It reminded Sam of the common space in his dorm at Stanford except that there was no residual smell of beer or weed. Off of the main space, there were five open doors leading into other rooms, and at the far end, a large staircase going up.

"Aiden, Declan and eventually Ethan got their own room." As he talked Colin pointed towards doors and Sam could see each room was outfitted as a bedroom. "Brian and I shared the biggest room." One of the spaces had two beds instead of one like the other rooms, and the final door opened to a full bathroom. Heading up the stairs Sam was curious about what they had done up here.

"This used to be just storage, but with so many kids in the family now, we needed the space." They stopped at the top of the stairs. Light and airy thanks to a big window at either end, the loft was set up like a large dormitory. There had to be at least 15 cots laid out in neat rows. Jonathan was running around with a pillowcase tied around his neck while his mother was putting sheets onto each cot.

"Oh good, helpers!," exclaimed Fiona who was tucking in a corner on one of the beds. "Colin, can you bring me more sheets from over there?" She pointed towards one of the cots that had a big pile of fresh linens stacked on it. Colin did as he was told while Dean picked up a plump pillow and a pillowcase. Sam was about to go help his brother when Jonathan suddenly took a flying leap off of the closest cot towards his chest. Years of training had honed Sam's reflexes, but it was still a close call as he grabbed the little body out of the air.

"Johnny!," Fiona shouted in alarm, but the little guy wasn't the least bit concerned. Little arms wrapped around Sam's neck as the child clung to him like a monkey. Holding his son against him, Sam couldn't resist squeezing him in a light hug. He felt the skinny arms tighten around his own neck before Jonathan leaned back to look at Sam's face.

"I like you," the boy said sweetly, patting Sam's cheek with his hand. Sam felt his heart lurch with love.

"I like you too," he said thickly, as emotion choked him. Jonathan gave him a grin before squirming to get down. Lowering him careful to the ground, the kid was off like a rocket again, zooming across the room to his mother and uncle. Sam dragged a hand through his hair and let out a huff. He half expected Dean to tease him, but when he looked over Dean was standing, pillow forgotten in his hands, just watching Jonathan with an odd look on his face. Eventually he felt Sam's eyes on him.

"He's so much like you at that age," Dean said with a wistful tone and a longing expression that surprised Sam. His brother wasn't usually this sentimental, he tended to be more guarded. As quickly as a blink, the expression was gone, and Dean tossed a pillow at Sam's head. "Here, make yourself useful," and with that Dean went back to wrangling the case onto another pillow.

When the three adults were working on the last bed, Sam heard a creak on the stairs and turned to see an unfamiliar man enter the room.

"Hey everybody," the guy said. "Sharron told me to come get you for lunch." A streak of colour ran by and Johnny launched himself at the stranger.

"Uncle Aiden!" Johnny slammed into the man's legs for an enthusiastic hug before climbing up on the closest bed to show off his cape. "I'm a superhero!," he shrieked shrilly, all little boy excitement.

"I see that Buddy! Good job," Aiden smiled at them over Jonathan's head and then opened his arms to Fiona. She stepped into his embrace and returned it with a firm squeeze. He gripped her chin lightly and looked directly into her eyes. "And how are you doing, Little One?" Fiona beamed back at him.

"Good, Aiden." She patted his chest fondly. "It's good to have the truth come out." He peered at her, apparently searching for the truth in her face, then bent down and kissed her forehead with a loud smack. Laughing, she pulled away and punched his arm playfully. Gesturing in his and Dean's direction she pulled Aiden closer.

"Aiden, this is Jonathan's father, Sam." Sam stuck out his hand and the other man gripped it firmly. Then Fiona nodded at his brother. "And this is Dean, Sam's brother." Aiden shook with Dean too.

"Welcome to our family homestead. I'm glad you could make it." If the man retained any concerns over the way the Winchesters came to be here, Sam couldn't find it in his expression. Aiden smiled warmly. "Well if we don't get our butts in gear, we won't get any lunch." He scooped up his nephew and spun the giggling child into the air. "Let's go Super Johnny, Hazel and Irene have been dying to play with you!" Still clutching the caped kid, Aiden led the way back downstairs.

Back in the kitchen Sharron directed them through to a large dining room that adjoined to a living room. The table was practically groaning with platters of sandwiches, salads and potato chips. An especially appealing tray of cookies and squares anchored the end of the table, and Sam made a note to grab one of the lemon squares. Judging by how full the room was, more of the MacCallum family had arrived while they had been in the barn. They joined the line for food and Sam selected a couple of sandwiches and an inviting broccoli salad. Dean was already stuffing a roast beef sandwich into his mouth as they made their way into the crowded living room where people were standing talking and perched on chairs to eat.

xxxxxxx

His mouth full of roast beef, Dean followed Sam into the living room. He grabbed a chair in the corner across from the large fireplace and balanced his full plate on his knee. It was funny how relaxed he was. Normally in a room full of people he felt edgy. As naturally as breathing, he'd already scoped out the possible exits from the room and identified any potential weapons, but other than that, he felt pretty comfortable. A gaggle of children weaved among the adult legs, Johnny among them. A group of women were sipping lemonade and cooing over a baby, Fiona's brother Declan was helping Aunt Kathleen get settled while Ethan brought her a plate of food, and friendly chatter filled the room. The scene was everything he would have expected from a family gathering. It was as pleasant, as it was unfamiliar. The woman in the chair next to him leaned over as he put a fork full of potato salad in his mouth.

"It's a little overwhelming, isn't it," she asked conspiratorially. "It took me a while to get used to all this." Waving her hand at the assembled people. Dean's mouth was full, so he just nodded and tried to smile around his food. The woman had long, dark hair that she tossed over one shoulder. If he'd met her in a bar, he would have been happy to buy her a drink, but in these circumstances, odds were she was part of this family, likely the happily married mother of some of the kids who were scampering around. She put down her empty plate and introduced herself.

"I'm Connie. My sister Maureen is married to Aiden." She pointed out her sister and Dean saw another lovely dark haired woman standing close to Aiden. The couple had that easy body language that spoke to a happy marriage. "They started dating when I was just 16 and Maureen began bringing me along to these things. I think she just wanted me to keep the three youngest MacCallum kids out of her hair while she and Aiden snuck out to the porch to make out." She laughed at that. Dean recognized the strategy.

"Yeah, I've done that a time or two. My little brother is great with parents." Dean pointed out where Sam was bent over intently listening to an older gentleman who was over a foot shorter than he was.

"Little brother?," Connie scoffed. "He's not so little now, is he." She cast an admiring glance Sam's way and Dean had to roll his eyes. But then he saw a realization dawn on Connie. "Wait, is that Sam. Is that the guy that…" She looked at Dean, then back at Sam with a slightly horrified expression. "He's Johnny's father?" Dean bristled slightly. Obviously the family grapevine hadn't reached her yet.

"Yeah. You should probably ask Fiona about that." Dean pushed out of the chair eager to get away from Connie. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go find some dessert." He made his way through the crowd to the table where Declan was loading a brownie onto a plate. Waggling his fingers over the mouth watering options, Dean couldn't decide.

"I recommend the brownies. They're fantastic." Declan offered advice as he snagged another one from the platter. "Although you can't go wrong with Maureen's chocolate, macadamia nut cookies. And if you are a traditionalist, Aunt Kathy's date squares are actually award winning."

"Thanks for the advice. Sounds like I'll have to try one of each." Dean put a brownie, a cookie and a date square on his plate, then added a lemon square to give to Sam when he found him. The younger man watched in anticipation as Dean bit into the brownie. It was rich and fudgy and one of the best brownies he'd ever eaten. Pie was his favourite, but a good brownie was hard to beat.

"Good huh?," Declan affirmed before biting into his own dessert.

"Mmmm," was all Dean could say, his mouth full of chocolate-y goodness. The two men moved away from the table so that someone else could help themselves. After a moment of convivial chewing, Declan was able to speak again.

"So, have you met everyone?," he asked conversationally. Dean put down his treat so that he could answer.

"Probably not. Fiona told me that there were going to be like 15 kids alone this weekend. You guys should issue your own yearbook or something." Declan laughed, brownie still on his teeth.

"Here, I'll point out the basics." Gesturing Dean to move, the man ushered them over to the fireplace. The mantle was full of framed photos and above them all was an oversized photo in a fancy frame. Declan pointed at the big photo first. "That's us. Mom and Dad - William and Maggie MacCallum. They wanted a big family, but I think after five they got tired of being outnumbered. In order that's Aiden, he's the oldest, then the twins." Dean recognized the Sheriff as the fresh young man in the crisp beige uniform, but he was surprised to see his twin Colin in army green. He hadn't realized that Colin had served in the armed forces. "That goofy looking kid is me. There's almost 6 years between me and the twins. Then there's Ethan. He was in senior year of high school in this picture, and of course Fiona." Declan's voice took on a sorrowful note. "This was taken about 6 weeks before my folks died."

"I'm sorry," Dean mumbled, he knew first hand how much it sucked lose your parents. Suddenly he was wishing that he had something to drink stronger than the lemonade on the sideboard. Declan shrugged and smiled sadly at Dean.

"Thanks," Declan responded. Before anything more could be said, Sam appeared at his elbow. Dean cursed himself for letting some of what he was feeling show, because Sam cocked a concerned eyebrow his way. He gave a slight nod to let his brother know that he was fine, then shoved his plate towards Sam.

"Dude, I got you a lemon square. But then you gotta get your own brownie - they are spectacular." With long fingers, Sam plucked the proffered dessert and took a bite. Sammy didn't have much of a sweet tooth, but the way he closed his eyes as he savored the lemon square told Dean he needed to go back and get one for himself. Once Sammy had wiped the sweet residue off of his fingers with a napkin, Declan stuck out his hand towards Sam.

"We haven't formally met. I'm Declan, one of Fiona's brothers."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Sam." Obviously the guy knew who Sam was, but the kid was always so polite.

"Declan has been pointing out the Whos Who," said Dean around a mouthful of cookie, pointing with his plate to the photos. His brother rolled his eyes but Dean was enjoying the sweets too much to care. Picking up a frame, Sam showed it to Declan.

"Who is this?" Sam asked before putting the photo back on the mantle. The picture showed three people in their teens. Judging by the hairstyles and clothing, it was taken back in the 60's.

"Oh that's Dad, Uncle Jimmy and their sister Debbie. Aunt Debbie passed a few years back, but..." Declan craned his neck to scan the room, then pointed. "The older gentleman in the chair by the window is Uncle Jimmy. And the couple over there with the baby? That's Debbie's youngest, Matt and his wife Ashley with their little guy Mason. He's only 9 months and right now he's the youngest of all the cousins." Dean admired the blonde couple who were cooing over their infant. He was going to ask about another picture when suddenly a loud whistle brought silence to the room. Sharron pulled two fingers out of her mouth and addressed everyone.

"So, if everyone one has eaten their fill, it's time to get back to work. Fiona, Colin, Declan...I need you to show everyone to their rooms. Ethan, can you and Jacob round up the kids. Kate, Maureen and Connie, can you start collecting the dirty dishes. And, I need some volunteers to put the food away and finish KP duty?" Sharron looked around and Declan jerked his head and nudged the Winchesters out of the room and towards the nearby hallway. Stairs led up from a spacious foyer and the gracious front door in front of them, led out to the porch.

"If you end up in the kitchen, you'll be stuck there for hours, and I want to see that car of yours." Dean perked up at that. He enjoyed showing off Baby and she was in tip top shape right now after all his repairs and restoration. Putting his now empty plate on a nearby table, they snuck out the front door and headed around the side of the house to where the cars were parked.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was a little light on content, so here is a little more. Thanks to everyone for their kind kudos! I appreciate it.

Dean was already expounding on all the features of the Impala as the three walked, but Sam tuned him out. He loved the car, and Dean had every right to be proud of all his hard work, it's just that he'd heard enough talk over the last month about big block engines, body work, and the intricacies of proper window seals to last a lifetime. He spotted Ethan and Jacob with a group of children over by the barn. Johnny was one of them so he peeled away from his brother and Declan to join them. With the exception of the Sheriff, the MacCallum brothers had all sought him out during the day to introduce themselves. Which, when he thought about it, was pretty big of them considering how he and Dean had lobbed into their lives like a grenade.

As he approached the bunch, Sam counted nine kids ranging in age from about 10 right down to Johnny at not yet 5. Jacob hailed him.

"Hey Sam. We were just about to take the kids over to the back field to see the horses. Do you want to come and help us keep this herd together?" Jacob tugged gently on the braid of a little girl who squealed in fake disapproval.

"Uh, sure." How hard could it be for three men to keep track of 9 kids? Besides, this would give him an opportunity to spend more time with his son. His son. Those words were still hard to process. It was only yesterday that he'd even learned about Jonathan and today was literally the first time he'd ever laid eyes on the boy. Now he had an opportunity to see his kid grow and discover the world, a chance to protect him from the evil that was out there, and a responsibility to make sure the boy never had to hunt, or fight or kill. Looking at the carefree little boy gambol ahead, he knew to his core that he wanted to spend time getting to know Jonathan. See his son grow up. What he didn't know is how to make that happen and what it would cost. Sam decided to defer that decision to Sunday. For this weekend, he vowed to just spend every moment he could with Johnny, and enjoy seeing the world through the eyes of his son.

The mowed lawn was large and lush, and despite the heat of the day a pleasant breeze ruffled the grass. The children all ran in front of them, pausing once in a while to chase a butterfly or to try and catch a grasshopper. Sam wasn't sure how far a walk it was to the back field but soon, the grass changed from well kept lawn to a more natural pasture full of clover and wildflowers. He kept his eyes on Jonathan, and his cousins Diego and Chloe. Those three were the youngest and between the heat of the day and the long walk they had a tendency to straggle behind.

Chloe was a cute little thing, all big eyes and dark hair in two pigtails. After a few more minutes, she plopped down in the grass and screwed up her face.

"I'm tired," she wailed. Jonathan came over to her and crouched down beside her. He cocked his head to one side, then looked over to Sam. He reached out a hand and patted his cousin on the head.

"Don't worry," he said confidently. Then the little guy came over and tugged on Sam's jeans. "You're big, so you can carry her." Jonathan had such faith that Sam would do exactly as asked. It was charming and Sam caught Jacob and Ethan smiling at him and Johnny over the heads of the other children. Sam was a little uncomfortable touching someone's child, but there was no way he was going to disappoint his son. Jonathan was watching him, a pleased expression on his sweet face. Getting down as low as he could go, Sam tapped Chloe's pink sneaker.

"Uh, Chloe...would you like a ride the rest of the way?" He figured at least he should ask before picking her up. She dragged her chubby fists across her tear streaked face and nodded. Sticking her arms out, Sam wrapped his hands around her middle and scooped her up. Propping her in the crook of his arm, he couldn't help but beam down at his son. Johnny giggled in approval and ran ahead of them.

Sam hadn't been around many children and the only ones he could recall were ones he met on cases. Sadly those kids were often traumatized. Generally he met them on their worst ever day. But as they walked Chloe seemed to perk up, loosely gripping his shirt and kicking her heels lightly against his ribs. The others started to slow down as they approached a wooden rail fence. Chloe squirmed alarmingly and he lowered her down as Jacob hung up his cell phone and put it away. Apparently he had been calling the owner of the horses because it was only a few moments later when a rider on horseback could be seen followed by a small herd of horses. The children all climbed part way up the fence to see the approaching animals.

Jonathan grinned at Sam over his shoulder and Sam went to stand behind him. His son seemed awful small next to such big and powerful animals and he felt the need to make sure Johnny didn't get bitten, or fall off the fence. Jacob gathered them around the horses who had stopped and had begun to graze. Despite having spent a full day riding one once back in 1861, Sam knew almost nothing about horses. Most of the animals were huge with broad bodies and fluff around their ankles. Two of the horses were smaller, including the one being ridden and were like the one he'd rode back to find Samuel Colt. It had taken a full week afterwards before he could sit without pain. The big ones reminded him of the Clydesdales from the Budweiser commercials.

"Okay, everybody. This is Mrs. Jennings," Ethan announced. The woman swung off her horse and tipped her hat at the crowd of children before chatting with Jacob. The two were obviously good friends despite the age difference. The horsewoman looked to be in her mid-forties while Jacob still looked very much like a college kid. Meanwhile, Ethan pulled out a container of cut up carrots and apples from his backpack as he talked. "Now we're going to give the horses a little treat."

Jacob explained how the children had to hold the food on their palm and that they needed to protect their fingers. One of the horses came closer and sniffed at Johnny. The little guy reached out and touched the horse's nose. The awe on his son's face was magical and Sam felt unfamiliar emotions well up in him as he watched. Even as he was pleased that the boy was having such a good time, Sam found himself putting an arm around Jonathan, ready to pull him away if the horse did anything dangerous. The animal bent it's head to munch on the grass around their fence post and Sam finally let himself pat the soft neck. Jacob handed Johnny and Sam some apple chunks and the big horse became very attentive, eager for its treat.

When the food was gone and one of the horses started to nibble on Hazel's braid, Jacob decided it was time to go. The children thanks Mrs. Jennings and they watched as the herd dispersed, less interested in the humans now that the treats were gone. The kids were also a lot less excited with only a long, warm walk back to the house to look forward to. Sam hesitated just a moment before swinging Johnny onto his shoulders.

"Hold on tight," he cautioned while firmly gripping Jonathan's skinny legs. Wrapping his own hands around Sam's forehead, the boy laughed. Sam could feel his little body vibrate against his head and had to laugh himself. If a week ago someone had told him that he'd be giving piggyback rides and minding children he would have never believed it. As they walked back, the warmth of Jonathan's body made Sam's neck sweaty, and the little boy chattered away as they walked.

"I'm as tall as a horse. No I'm as tall as a tree, or a house! This is fun! Even more fun then the time Uncle Aiden took me on a ride at the 'musement park. It was tall and we falled really, really fast. Hazel and Irene were too scared, so they stayed with Aunt Maureen and Mommy but I was brave. Except I was a little scared and it kinda gave me a funny tummy." Jonathan's happy prattle didn't require Sam to answer, so he just enjoyed the afternoon sunshine and the childish voice in his ear. Then the boy's voice got more thoughtful and quiet.

"Uncle Aiden is Hazel and Irene's daddy, Uncle Brian is Glen's daddy, Cousin Dennis is Noah's daddy, and Cousin Carlos is Diego and Sofia's daddy. Chloe and Logan don't have a daddy anymore. He moved away." Sam felt ill equipped for where this conversation seemed to be going.

"For a long time I didn't have a daddy." The kid fell silent and Sam swallowed hard and blinked back tears. He knew a thing or two about feeling different from other kids. He also knew something about missing a parent he'd never known. But he'd had Dean, and later Bobby. Jonathan had his mother and uncles, he was loved and cared for. Still, sometimes you only want what you don't have. Small hands hugged his head and moist breath dampened his ear as Johnny whispered. "I'm glad you're here."

xxxxxxx

Dean was lounging on the porch enjoying the shade and a cold beer. Declan had appropriately fawned over Baby and Dean was pleased for his girl. Then Declan had disappeared for a few minutes reappearing with a well stocked cooler. Over the next little while, a number of other men had drifted over to join them as they enjoyed a drink in the coolness of the porch. Aiden and Colin had brought out a few more chairs and Dennis, Aunt Kathy's son and Carlos, her son in law had made their way over. It was nice. They were discussing cars as the Impala shone in front of them, a star amongst the other generic, modern cars parked nearby.

"My first car was a 1990 Honda Prelude that I bought used. It had 90 thousand miles on her and she leaked oil, but it had those flip up headlights and I thought it was the coolest car ever. I used to drive around with my buddies and try and pick up girls." Carlos grinned and the other guys nodded.

"You're lucky. I got to drive my Dad's 1988 Ford Escort. That thing was ugly as sin." Dennis had to laugh. "What was your first car Colin?"

"Mom and Dad got Brian and I an old Toyota Camry to drive back and forth to school. We used to fight over who would take the car until Dad threatened to sell it. We still fought about it, but not where Dad could hear us." Everyone laughed although Dean noticed that speaking about his father made Colin a bit sad, but still he smiled gamely.

"Well, I got you all beat," boasted Aiden in an obvious attempt to continue the lighthearted mood. "I didn't want to have to drive the old farm truck, so I saved up my money and when I turned 18 I bought myself an old Kawasaki Ninja 900 motorcycle. I thought Mom was going to have a heart attack." He chuckled. "I kept that thing, even after Maureen and I got married."

The men continued to discuss the merits of motorcycles when Dean saw Sam, Ethan, Jacob and a group of children cross the lawn towards them. He'd wondered where his brother had gotten to. Seeing Jonathan on Sam's broad shoulders made a perfect scene. As a new dad of sorts, it made sense that Sammy would want to spend as much time as possible with his son. Jonathan was clinging to Sam's head and talking a mile a minute. Like father, like son Dean thought. There had been many a time when they were younger that Dean would have given his left arm to have a few minutes of reprieve from Sammy's incessant chatter. He loved the kid, but man there had been a time when he could talk the hind legs off a donkey.

The group approached the porch. Maureen must have been keeping an eye out for her daughters and the group because she came out just as they all flopped down on the stairs in various stages of exhaustion. Declan jumped to his feet to help Maureen with a tray of juice boxes that she was carrying. He started offering them around to the children as the woman tutted at the sweaty face of her youngest.

"Irene, honey...you seem really hot." She caressed the girl's dark hair and hugged the child to her hip. "Why don't you all head over to the barn? It's nice and cool there and you can watch some movies until dinner." The assorted kids climbed to their feet and obediently began to make their way to the barn. Jonathan climbed down from Sam's back, but seemed reluctant to join his cousins. Even though Sam was sitting on the stairs, the little boy had to look up at him.

"I'm gonna go watch the movie. Will you be here when I'm done?" Dean saw an expression he didn't recognize cross his brother's face. Something like pain and doubt mixed with some possessiveness that was unusual to see in Sam.

"Yes, I'll be here," Sam confirmed. Johnny's face broke into a grin before he bolted off the porch in a run. Sam wiped some sweat off his face and neck with the back of his sleeve and followed his son with his eyes until the kid disappeared into the barn with the others.

"If I could bottle up that kind of energy, I'd be rich," Dennis said wryly as they watched the gaggle of kids leave. Now that the children were gone, Dean pulled a beer out of the cooler and passed it to Sam.

"So, where were you guys." He threw the question out there and it was Ethan who answered as he motioned for a beer of his own. Dean obliged, offering one to Jacob too.

"We walked to the back field where our land meets the Jennings' farm. Beverly brought the horses over for the kids to see." Ethan took a long drink and Jacob continued.

"Yeah, Mrs. Jennings has a small herd of Belgians. She had my class out to get some hands on experience with such a big breed." Jacob got a chance to swallow some of his own beer while Ethan explained.

"Jacob's just finishing up his veterinary degree." The pride he had in his partner was evident. Jacob just shrugged.

"I plan to focus on companion animals. Equines and livestock are cool, but I don't want to travel that much. I hope to set up my own practice here so that folks don't have to travel to Milford when their dog needs a check-up." The conversation continued on about beloved pets and such, but Dean was distracted. Sam was very quiet and seemed a bit withdrawn considering they were talking about animals. Maybe he was thinking about the degree he never got to finish, or the dog he never got to have. Either way, Dean wanted to get Sam alone so that he could check in with his brother and see where his head was at. Tapping Declan on the shoulder, he kept his voice low.

"Hey, uh do you know where Sam and I are bunking? I think Sam might like to uh, freshen up." Declan had been leaning against the rail near Dean's chair, but he pushed off and put his bottle down.

"Yeah, sure." Dean got up to follow him. Sam was a little spaced out, but Dean still managed to catch his brother's eye and with a jerk of his chin, indicate that he should join them. Brushing off his jeans as he stood, Sam was at his side as Declan led the way back into the house.

"So, since all the kids are in the barn, we figured you'd get more sleep in the main house. Me, Fiona, Connie, April and Peggy are going to bunk there. Aiden and Maureen always get the little white house, but this year Heather and Joey will take the second bedroom and we've got Uncle Murray and Dennis set up in the den over there. Brian drives home each night." At that Declan shook his head, obviously not impressed with his brother's choice but he continued his list. "Ethan and Jacob are going to rough it in a trailer they set up behind the barn." Sam stopped them as they got to the upstairs landing.

"Wait, we don't want to put anyone out. We can take the trailer." Dean suppressed a sigh. Leave it to Sam to be so self-sacrificing. He could sleep on some crappy, thin fold out mattress if he wanted, but Dean would much prefer a real bed. Luckily Declan was already waving away Sam's offer.

"Nah, Ethan and Jacob like the trailer. They think it's "romantic." Declan made finger quotes in the air as he rolled his eyes sarcastically. Moving down the hall, he pointed out various rooms as he passed. "Kate and Alan will be here, Alicia and Carlos will be here." An open door led to another set of stairs. "Colin and Sharron have their usual room in the attic." He pointed up the stairs before stopping at the next door. "So you guys are in here."

Pushing the door open wider, Dean saw a decent sized, but cozy looking room with two beds. There were handmade quilts across each footboard, a slightly scruffy armchair, and a couple of pieces of solid wood furniture, mismatched, but obviously quality. A small closet was in the corner and another door led to a small ensuite bathroom. Dean was impressed considering they had only been invited this morning.

"Sharron gave you guys this one because it's got it's own bathroom." If there was a hint of jealousy in Declan's voice he covered it well. "Matt, Ashley and the baby are in the den in the basement, so Mason won't keep anyone up if he cries. Finally Aunt Kathy is across from you, but don't worry - she sleeps like a stone. It takes a cannon to wake her up." He chuckled. "Usually we send in some of the kids to jump on the bed!" The image of sweet, old Aunt Kathy getting pounced on by a bunch of rambunctious children made Dean grin. In his imagination, she wore a voluminous flannel gown and a flowered bonnet to sleep in.

"Thanks Declan," Sam said as the younger man backed out of the door with a wave. Dean followed him over and closed the door, leaving just him and Sam alone for the first time since this morning. Once they didn't have company, the smile slid off of Sammy's face and he sank heavily onto one of the beds.

"So, how you doing, Sam?" He sat across from his brother. Sam looked tired, although a little more tanned than he was yesterday. The fresh air and sunshine were probably good for the kid.

"I'm fine. Just a little tired." The tension in his shoulders and the worry lines on his forehead told Dean that Sam was more than just a little tired, but he wisely didn't argue.

"Why don't you lie down for a bit? Take a nap. I'll head to the car and grab our gear." At that suggestion Sam straightened up.

"I'm good. I'm fine, really."

"I know you are. But you barely got any sleep in that damn jail cell, and I know you tossed and turned all last night." Actually he'd witnessed at least two of his brother's nightmares last night. The kind that had him gasping awake, wide-eyed and shaking. Dean was sure that Sam had dug way too hard into his memories from his time being soulless. Either he was dreaming about his time in Hell, or about all the awful shit he'd done topside. Neither option was pleasant. Dean had pretended to sleep through them because he knew Sam didn't need an audience as he dealt with his trauma. And he also knew that Sam didn't want him to know just how hard the last few days had been. Like Dean couldn't tell anyway, but he tried to let Sammy have his space.

"Nah, I'm not going to take a nap like some little kid and leave you alone with the whole MacCallum family." He tried to play it casual, but Dean saw through it. So that's what was bothering Sam. He could understand why Sam might have trouble sleeping without having someone he trusted nearby to watch his back. His brother would never ask him to stay, but frankly a nap sounded good. A lifetime of hunting had taught him to rest when the chance arose. Dean toed off his boots and swung his legs up onto the bed.

"Actually Sam, I'm beat. We've got nothing specific to do for the next couple of hours, so you can go join the crew working in the kitchen if you want to, but I'm gonna grab 40 winks." Stretching out, Dean crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his socked feet under the quilt. He didn't look at Sam, but after a few minutes he heard the kid kick off his own boots and settle down. Peeking through slitted eyes he saw Sam scrunch a pillow into the right shape and snuggle into the comfortable bedding. After a couple of minutes, the tension drained from Sam's back and his breathing slowed until he was snoring softly. Dean felt some of his own stress ease and he closed his eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some nice fluffy stuff to make up for the long wait. Plus - a little housekeeping note. Eagle eyed readers might notice that, I mentioned an Uncle Jimmy in the last chapter. However I changed the character's name to Murray to avoid any confusion with Jimmy Novak. But, I forgot to make the change before posting. I've fixed it, but just in case it caused any confusion.

A small sound woke Dean up. He hadn't planned to actually fall sleep and yet dream images of Sam as a small child still danced fleetingly in his head. Obviously the similarity between Sam and Jonathan had revived those particular memories, but it was kind of nice to remember a time when caring for his brother had been as simple as keeping him clean, fed and happy. Over the past decade Sam had been through so much, Dean really didn't know how the kid managed. He did his best to be there for Sam, but considering he'd tried to kill him more than once in the past year or so, he hadn't been doing a very good job.

The little noise caught his attention again. The door knob rattled slightly. His first instinct was to reach for the knife that he normally kept under his pillow, but foolishly he hadn't brought their gear up to this room yet. It had seemed more important to get Sam to rest. Quiet in his sock feet, he crept towards the door, then yanked it open. Startled, Jonathan looked up at him with big eyes from the floor where he was sitting outside the door. Cursing himself under his breath for scaring the child, Dean crouched down.

"Hey buddy," he said softly, trying not to disturb Sam. "Whatcha doing?' The little guy smiled up at him, and jumped up, eager to look inside the room. Dean stepped aside and Johnny went to the side of the bed where Sam was sleeping. With a frown he turned back to Dean and thrust some brightly coloured plastic in his direction.

"This broke!," he said in an exaggerated whisper. Obviously the kid had been hoping to see Sam, but Dean would do. Taking one of the offered pieces, Dean recognized the front end of a toy truck. He set it on the bed then patted the rumpled comforter, keeping his voice pitched low.

"Well, if you climb up here, I think we can fix that."

Jonathan clambered up on the bed with only a little help. He settled cross legged in the middle while Dean sat on the side. Picking up the truck parts, he took a look. Plastic tabs and notches were meant to line up so that the two pieces could snap into place. It took a couple of tries and more force than expected to snap the toy back together. As Jonathan watched intently, Dean pushed the wheels onto the plastic frame before handing it back to the boy. Johnny however didn't seem all that interested in the truck now that it had been assembled. Instead he scooted over to lean trustingly against Dean's leg. Staring at Sam, Dean could almost see the kid thinking hard. That was another trait Johnny shared with his father.

"Is he okay?," Jonathan asked softly, big concerned eyes looking up at Dean. That pleading look was so familiar that Dean responded automatically with an arm around the kid's shoulder.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just really tired," Dean reassured his nephew. Sam didn't sleep well at the best of times, but the past few days had been rough on his brother. Not that he'd share that with Jonathan. The child nodded sagely.

"Did he stay up past bedtime?" Dean had to chuckle.

"Something like that." He said, lightly ruffling the boy's hair as he spoke. Damn the tyke was cute.

"Okay," Johnny said, and like a monkey the little guy was off the bed. Reaching out, Johnny patted Sam's back which was turned their way. "Sleep tight," he stage whispered before darting out the open door, leaving the newly restored truck behind. Evidently the kid's touch was so light, or Sam was so exhausted that he didn't react. Dean picked up his boots and the toy and padded out of the room, closing the door behind him.

xxxxxx

A loud shriek jerked Sam awake, his body on high alert trying to place the sound and the possible danger. Then another shriek floated in from the window accompanied by the sound of children laughing. Swinging his feet off the bed, he padded over to the window and looked outside. The mob of children were running around in the late afternoon sun. He found himself looking for Johnny amongst the kids and was pleased to see his dark curls. Glancing at his watch, he was shocked to realize that he'd been sleeping for a couple of hours. Sam tugged on his boots, finger combed his hair and headed downstairs.

The adults had congregated on the porch and Sam felt self-conscious about joining them, so he lingered inside the screened door. From where he was standing he could see Dean sitting on the railing, beer in hand, having an animated conversation with Carlos and Colin. At one end, Maureen, Sharron and most of the women were chatting away, sipping wine while ensconced in some folding chairs. Uncle Murray was obviously telling some kind of story a little farther down because Aiden, Declan and Dennis were engrossed. At the other end of the porch, Ashley sat with baby Mason in a rocking chair, Matt was perched behind her on the rail and Aunt Kathy, Kate and Savannah were spread out on a low sofa cooing over the tiniest cousin as he slept. Ethan and Jacob were sitting close to each other on the steps, holding hands as they watched the kids play.

The whole scene felt idyllic, like a movie version of a perfect family. Even Dean fit. His brother was such a chameleon, he was able to blend into almost any situation with ease. But Sam had always felt like an outsider, an interloper. He didn't belong here among these nice people, enjoying each other's company. Dragging a hand over his mouth, he stepped away from the door, suddenly eager to hide in the shadowy hall rather than contaminate this family with his presence.

"They don't bite you know." Sam spun around, jolted out of his thoughts. A woman was leaning against the opening into the living room. "Sorry to startle you," she said.

"Uh, no, it's...it's fine. I uh, was just…" Sam stammered, unable to find the right word to explain.

"Hiding," she answered for him. "That's okay, so am I." She smiled ruefully before casting a wistful glance out the door. "But really, they are good people." Sam nodded. He knew that the MacCallums were decent and kind. He just didn't know if he deserved to be part of their family. The woman stared at him a minute longer then offered her hand.

"Sorry, I should introduce myself. I'm Peggy, Glen's mom." Sam shook her hand.

"I'm Sam, I'm uh, Jonathan's father." He answered in kind. It was both weird but somehow thrilling to introduce himself that way.

"Oh," she said with an arched eyebrow. She didn't recoil in disgust, so he figured that she must have heard at least some of the story. Peggy stepped a little closer. "So, you definitely met my ex-husband, Brian then?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam said haltingly, not sure how to respond. The sheriff had been fair, but hardly friendly. Of course, he didn't blame Brian considering what he'd thought Sam had done. Peggy watched his face, then giggled at his expression.

"It's okay. Brian has that effect on people." She turned her gaze back to the door. "We got divorced almost 3 years ago, and the family has been really great. They go out of their way to include Glen and I in things like this weekend. I just find it a little awkward sometimes." Peggy peered up at him again and shrugged. "Things will work out, you'll see." With that she tugged lightly on his sleeve, motioning him towards the door. "Here, I'll run interference for you." Sam had to laugh at that, but followed her out onto the porch.

The rest of the afternoon was full of laughter and lemonade, watching the children wear themselves out, listening to family stories and letting himself soak up the unfamiliar feelings. At one point, Jonathan had come to sit beside him, happy to regale him with a detailed explanation of the complicated make believe game the younger kids were playing. Eventually the men folk were enlisted to help set up a series of folding tables under a huge tent that had been erected on the other side of the house. What seemed like a mountain of casseroles, salads and hot dishes were brought out, and they all sat down to enjoy a comfortable meal.

Although he seldom ate such heavy food, he couldn't resist the amazing home cooking and Sam ate until he literally couldn't eat any more. Pushing away his plate, he let the conversation flow around him and savoured the peacefulness that settled over him. The sun was low in the sky, there was a bee buzzing among the nearby flower bushes and the tree tops shushed in the gentle breeze. Jonathan had crawled up onto his mother's lap as the adults lingered over coffee and dessert. After a short while, the little guy fell asleep, his elephant friend still clutched in his hands.

At some unspoken signal, Connie, Maureen and Carlos rose from the table and began to gather the youngest children. There was some whining, but it was obvious that the cousins were almost as exhausted as Johnny. Fiona made a move to try and stand while holding her son and Sam leapt up to help.

"I can take him," he whispered, not wanting to wake the boy. Fiona seemed surprised but grateful.

"Thanks. He's getting so big." She swept her hand across their son's head, brushing back the soft curls. With Fiona's help, Sam gently transferred the child into his arms. Jonathan grumbled in his sleep, but went back to his doze almost immediately, his ear nestled close to Sam's chest. He followed Fiona towards the barn.

The bunk room was dimly lit by a number of lamps, casting a warm yellow glow over the beds. It looked cozy and welcoming, perfect for sleepy children.

"We put the youngest kids at the back, so the older ones don't wake them up when they come to bed," Maureen said quietly as she ushered Hazel and Irene towards the far end of the room. Sam tagged along until Fiona stopped. He laid Johnny down on the cot his mother pointed to, then stood, unsure of whether he should stay or go. No one seemed bothered by his presence, so he watched as Fiona pulled Jonathan's shoes off and deftly maneuvered him into Spiderman pajamas, all without waking the boy. Maureen also swiftly changed her two kids into nightgowns while Carlos wiped his son's hands and face with a warm washcloth. He had to marvel at how natural the bedtime routine was for these parents. On one hand he doubted that he could ever get so proficient at putting his son to bed. On the other hand, he longed to try.

As he watched, almost forgotten memories of Dean helping him into pajamas and tucking him into different motel room beds trickled into his brain. His brother had been not much older than Hazel, yet even at 9 years old Dean had been just as efficient and caring as the parents in front of him. Sometimes Sam forgot what a debt he owed Dean. Not that his brother ever allowed him to offer much in the way of thanks.

After getting him settled under the blankets, Fiona kissed Jonathan's forehead and turned off the nearby light, shrouding the end of the room in shadow. Johnny looked so adorable and peaceful, Sebastian the elephant nestled in beside him. He knew that Savannah was downstairs in the lounge, engrossed in her phone, nominally on babysitting duty, but Sam was reluctant to leave. Carlos nudged him as he passed.

"Hey, after all the fresh air and exercise, he's going to sleep like a log. Don't worry!" The man offered a grin and Sam, with a last glance at his sleeping son, followed them back out to the yard. The sun had sunk lower and the warm summer evening was full of the chirp of crickets and the mellow hum of conversation as they made their way back toward the tent. Dean was coming from the car when he met them as he crossed the grass, their bags slung over one arm.

"I'm going to bring these upstairs." Dean stopped mid-stride with a frown. Once the other three had moved past he asked. "Hey, everything okay?" Sam had to smile at his brother's unending concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Dean." The older man gave him a searching look, but then shrugged, obviously letting it go.

"Okay, well then save me a beer, I'll be right back." He turned to resume his trip toward the house.

"Hey, Dean," Sam found himself calling when his brother was a few feet away. Dean paused again and gave him a questioning and slightly worried look over his shoulder.

"What?"

Sam wasn't sure why he had said anything. How do you thank someone for giving up their childhood for you? There was no way to explain the love he felt for Dean - not without horribly embarrassing them both. It had only been a few months since he had been sure that he'd lost Dean to the Mark of Cain. On his knees, he'd begged Dean to see how much he was loved and valued. Now was not the time to revisit that. Sam could only hope that his brother knew how he felt anyway.

"Nothing. I'll uh, save you that beer." Dean cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but nodded before he left.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a chapter now because I needed something to distract me. Maybe you do to. Unfortunately this chapter may not be the best distraction as it comes with a warning. There is a scene where a character dreams of torture and gore. It's not for long, but I wouldn't want anyone to stumble into it unaware - especially as the last few chapters have been pretty fluffy. (I realize I should go change the rating of this story.)

Posting a chapter now because I needed something to distract me. Maybe you do to. Unfortunately this chapter may not be the best distraction as it comes with a warning. There is a scene where a character dreams of torture and gore. It's not for long, but I wouldn't want anyone to stumble into it unaware - especially as the last few chapters have been pretty fluffy. (I realize I should go change the rating of this story.) Thanks to scootersmom, ZeldaIsis, Kathy and OldGirl-NoraArlani for their reviews.

"I can't believe you won on a question about Ernest Hemmingway!," Sam shook his head. He knows better than anyone just how smart Dean really is, but his brother still surprises him occasionally.

"What? I read," Dean said somewhat smugly as they headed upstairs. The evening had flown by. Someone had brought out a bunch of lanterns and a battered copy of Trivial Pursuit. To say that the MacCallum family enjoyed a cut throat game of trivia was an understatement. It had been an easy, normal type of fun, the kind he remembered from his College days. As kids, Dean had taught him poker, and then later darts and pool, but they seldom had a chance to play just for the fun of it.

Sam sat on his bed and pulled off his boots. Typical, Dean had called first shower and now he could faintly hear his brother singing an off-key version of "We Are the Champions" over the noise of the water. Despite his earlier nap, Sam was tired. He considered just showering in the morning, but apparently there were plans for the annual MacCallum fishing expedition the next day and he didn't want to be rushed. The chance to spend more time with Jonathan was irresistible.

Wandering over to the window, he pulled back the curtains to look at the barn where his son was sleeping. He sent a quick prayer skyward for Johnny's safety. The boy was amazing - smart and kind and sweet and seeing the little guy experience new things reminded Sam that the world wasn't all dark. That there were butterflies to chase, warm summer days, friendly horses to pet, and piggyback rides. Sam caught his own reflection in the window glass. There was a broad smile on his face, one he hadn't seen in so long, he almost didn't recognize it as his own. The last few years had been hard to say the least, and he hadn't had much reason to smile until recently.

"Don't worry, I added some sigils and salt lines to the barn earlier." Dean was scrubbing his head with a towel as he walked out of the bathroom. Dressed in his usual sleep outfit of thin sweatpants and a well worn henley, he looked relaxed and more open than usual.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam responded. Protecting the innocent, taking care of people was part of Dean's DNA. But keeping Johnny safe should be Sam's job. And the boy wouldn't need protection from the supernatural if he wasn't his son. Everyone he loves, seems to die, so if Sam truly wanted to protect Jonathan and the rest of the MacCallum family, he should pack up right now and get as far away from them as possible. But how could he do that? He was the boy's father. It was his responsibility to be there for Johnny, the way Dean had always been there for him. He flopped back onto the bed, the weight of the worry and the indecision was exhausting.

"Hey." Dean smacked his knee.

"What?" Sam rolled onto his side, then sat up again as Dean gave him a probing look.

"What's going on with you?" His words were rough, but his voice was full of compassion and concern. Maybe if he talked to Dean he could figure out what to do.

"I just...I just don't know what to do. I never thought I'd be in this situation. I want to be part of Jonathan's life, I really do but…" He faded off with a sigh.

"But what?" Dean hitched himself up to lean against the headboard.

"Am I going to be putting him in danger if I try and be his Dad?" Sam found himself gnawing on his thumbnail, a bad habit he was trying to break. Dean quirked a smile at him.

"Sorry to point out the obvious Sam, but you already are his Dad. Danger or not, that ship sailed about five years ago."

"But I don't know what to do, how to be a father. Most of the time I'm around him I'm terrified, certain I'll say or do the wrong thing. Wouldn't the best thing be to just leave? He's got a great Mom and lots of family who love him and we, ...well we have to deal with the Darkness - a mess I created. Maybe that's what I do," he sighed again. "Make a mess, and screw things up. I don't want to wreck his life." Flinging his hands up he let them drop into his lap in despair. Dean reached across and squeezed his knee.

"Hey, you didn't screw up. You did everything possible to save me, and you did. So thank you for that." Dean looked away for a second and cleared his throat. "And the Darkness? That's not just your mess. You, me, Cas...we'll figure out what to do about Amara, just like we always do." Apparently Sam didn't look completely reassured because Dean shook the knee he was still gripping.

"You're supposed to be terrified, Sammy." He smiled. "I remember when you first started to walk. You went from a slow shuffle one day, and the next you were running like a freaking cheetah. It was all I could do to catch you. You thought running away from me was hilarious, but I was positive you were going to run in front of a car, or off a ledge or something and get yourself killed." Nostalgia softened Dean's expression for a moment, but then he caught Sam's eye. "The point is, it's normal to be terrified. Look Sam, I can't tell you what to do here. You gotta decide that for yourself. What I can tell you, is that you will make a great dad." His brother's smile was warm and reassuring. Then Dean smacked his leg and stood, busying himself with his bed covers to hide the emotion on his face. "Now, go get in the shower Sasquatch, you stink," he said gruffly.

Love flooded Sam. He was touched by what Dean had said and the fact that he had actually said it. It wasn't very often that Dean would venture into this kind of emotional moment, so hearing his reassurance and confidence meant a lot. Digging out his own pajamas and shave kit, he kept his back turned while Dean climbed into bed. Stopping at the door to the bathroom, he paused and looked over to where his brother was getting comfortable.

"Thanks Dean," he said quietly. "But, if I'm a good parent, it's because I learned it from you." And with that he fled into the bathroom and closed the door.

xxxxxxx

Intense agony coursed through his body. His bare skin burned where it touched the icy metal rack. Panting, he tried to catch his breath against the pain. Hot blood - his blood - poured down his legs and puddled on the floor, the rest of him ached with the cold. Of course the ache was nothing compared to the excruciating anguish. The feel of Lucifer's cold fingers beneath the muscles of his stomach. Wiggling, pushing, tugging. Sam had long ago given up praying for an end. All he could do was suffer through the torment and wait for the archangel to stop.

The invisible chains that held him bit into his wrists and ankles and held him firmly face first against the rack. The agony abated for a second and he was unable to suppress a moan as he sagged against the frame holding him. Then Lucifer's slippery voice was in his ear as the devil pressed his frigid body close against Sam's back.

"Oh Sammy," he breathed, "you like this don't ya? You look so pretty like this. Helpless and bloody. Your insides all over your outsides." Lucifer pressed harder against his naked body, snuggling in obscenely close. One hand was wrapped around him, buried deep in his flayed open torso. The other hand smeared blood across the opposite hip in a sick caress. Lucifer sighed and rubbed his face against Sam's shoulder.

"Oh bunk buddy, I love this time with you, but I'm getting bored." Lucifer pulled his hand out of Sam's gut and grabbing his jaw twisted Sam's head to the side so that they were eye to eye. Pouting, the devil continued. "I want you to know it's not me, it's you. After so many years, our relationship isn't as…" He sucked in air as if he was searching for a word. "Exciting!" Despite his pain and exhaustion, Sam could see the gleam in Lucifer's eyes.

"So Sam, I figure we should start seeing other people." With a flick of his finger he stepped back and Sam's body was restored. The bindings disappeared and he slid down the bloody rack to collapse onto the slick floor. The absence of agony was like silence after thunder. All he wanted to do was to curl up into a ball and rest, but Lucifer had other plans. With another small gesture he was thrown backwards, landing hard against the wall. Frosted chains slithered back into existence wrapping around him and binding him tightly. Lucifer stood in the shadows across from him.

"Yeah, I can see you're tired. So, hows about I let you get some sleep." A comfortable looking bed shimmered into being nearby, but Sam knew from experience that Lucifer wasn't done with him yet. "Yeah, Sammy. You rest and I can play with him." A small form materialized in front of the archangel. With glowing eyes and a wicked leer Lucifer placed a possessive hand over Jonathan's chest, tugging the child against him. Sam arched against the chains, frantically trying to break free.

"No," he screamed, the sound tearing from his throat. Lucifer began to laugh and crouching down picked up Johnny, cuddling the child in his arms and pressing his cheek against the boy's curls.

"I think I'm gonna have so much fun with him," he simpered before turning and walking away to disappear into the shadows. With everything in him, Sam frantically fought against his bonds, twisting and yanking against the chains.

"No, no stop! Come back! I'll obey, I swear, I'll do anything... just let him go! No, please no!"

xxxxxxx

Sam lurched upright, propelled violently awake and out of his dream. Heart pounding, he scanned the room in a panic and it took him a minute or two before he recognized the unfamiliar surroundings. He was at the MacCallum's house. Glancing quickly towards the other bed, Dean lay still asleep, or at least faking it well. He let the sound of his brother's slow, steady breathing calm him a bit before shoving the sheet and blanket off his legs.

The room was warm but the cold sweat he wiped from his face had nothing to do with the temperature. Shoving the covers aside, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Padding in bare feet over to the window, he pulled back the curtain. The barn looked as sturdy and tranquil as before. Briefly he considered going to check on Jonathan, but his watch told him it was a little before 3:00 am. Far too late to risk waking up all the kids. Looking back at his rumpled bed, he thought about trying to go back to sleep, but he knew it would be futile. He needed to move, to shake off the disturbing image of Lucifer anywhere near his son. The room was far too small to pace and besides, Dean deserved to get some sleep.

With all the stealth a lifetime of hunting had taught him, Sam tiptoed to the door and slipped into the hallway. Thinking that maybe a drink of water would help, he made his way downstairs quietly. A light was shining in the kitchen and he paused in the doorway. Colin was sitting at the work table, a big glass of milk and a large brownie in front of him. But their host wasn't paying attention to either treat. Colin had his head bowed, his arms bracketing his head and his hands laced tightly behind his neck. He looked like he was in pain. Sam didn't want to intrude and was going to creep away when Colin rolled his head and caught sight of him.

"Hey, Sam," he said, leaning back with a smile. Busted, there was no point in hiding.

"Hey, Colin. I uh, I didn't mean to bother you, I was just looking for a glass of water." Colin rose to his feet and gestured to a chair.

"No bother, grab a chair. I didn't wake you did I?," he asked over his shoulder as he pulled a jug of cold water from the fridge and fetched a clean glass from the cupboard. Sam stepped into the bright room but didn't sit down.

"No, no...I just..." It was hard to explain how his nightmares made him restless and anxious. Clenching the back of a chair he fought to put an unconcerned expression on his face. Colin put the full glass at the place across from his own then gave Sam a close look. Returning to the counter he dished out another brownie and put it on a plate, adding that to the glass before he said anything else.

"Come, sit. I could use the company." Easing back into his chair, he stared up at Sam until he reluctantly sat down too. Taking a bite of his brownie, Colin continued to examine Sam's face as he chewed. Sam gave him a weak smile, still too shaken from his dream to do more. "Let me guess. Nightmare?" It was Colin's turn to smile at the surprised look from Sam. "I get them too." Sam took a sip of his water rather than reply.

"Sometimes, I remember things I've seen or done - things I'd rather not remember or hoped I'd forgotten." Colin took a sip of milk and wiped his mouth on a napkin. "Then other times, my mind invents something new and horrible. And sometimes," he chuckled lightly, "I just eat too much before bed." He leaned towards Sam. "Which was it for you?" Sam could take the offered 'out' and claim indigestion, but he for some reason he didn't.

"Uh, the second one I guess. My brain likes to take a memory and make it worse sometimes." Maybe it was the homey kitchen, or the quiet peacefulness of a house full of sleeping people. It wasn't like he could talk to anyone, even Dean, about Lucifer and what had happened during his time in the cage, so he wasn't sure why he said anything at all. Colin propped his elbows on the table an gave him an empathetic grimace.

"Trauma does funny things to a person. When I got back from Afghanistan, during the day I was fine...but it took a long time before I could sleep through the night without waking up screaming. You've been through some really terrible stuff in the past, haven't you?" There was no point in answering. Colin could have no idea about the kind of horror Sam had seen and Sam could never tell him. Would never want to share that burden with anyone. His lack of response didn't seem to faze the man across from him. Colin just shoved Sam's brownie towards him, urging him to take a bite with a jerk of his chin, then leaned back.

"I recognize the look. And I'm guessing that when you met Fiona, you weren't - yourself. You were still grappling with what had happened to you." Sam could only shrug. It was a simplistic way to describe being soulless, but at its core it was technically true. "Anyway, it's not my business. I believe that a man can't change his past, but he doesn't have to let it define him either. Nightmares might suck, but they're just dreams, you know."

Colin relaxed further into his chair, seemingly content in the companionable silence and watching as Sam finally picked up the brownie, and took a bite. Chocolate hit his taste buds in a flood of flavour. This was as amazing as Dean had said. "Mmmmm," Sam mumbled around his mouthful. Colin beamed at him.

"Eh? They're great aren't they. They're Sharron's speciality although she tends to only make them when we have company. Just as well, I'd gain 50 pounds if she made them all the time." Colin grabbed his own empty plate and glass and took them to the sink. When he returned to the table, he had a fresh glass of milk which he put in front of Sam. "Here, this goes better than the water. Well, I'm going to try and get some more sleep while I can. Don't stay up too late." Then Sam was alone with his snack and his thoughts.

A little while later Sam snuck back to their room, careful to be as silent as possible. Dean was still just a dark lump in the other bed. Climbing carefully back into bed, Sam scrunched his pillow into the perfect position to try and get a few more hours sleep before the dawn. Just as he got settled Dean spoke.

"You 'kay, Sam?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep. Sam knew that, if he wanted to talk, Dean would roll over and stay up as long as he needed him to. But oddly, just knowing that his brother would do that for him was enough.

"Yeah, I'm good. Go back to sleep." With a snuffling noise, Dean shifted position and was quickly back to sawing logs. Sam could feel sleep sweeping over him too, so he closed his eyes and let the room fade to black.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully last chapters' dream sequence was a break from all the recent fluffiness of Sam meeting his son. This chapter we're back to some fluff, but from Fiona's perspective as we learn a little more about the MacCallums. Thanks to shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for their very kind review! Feedback is always appreciated.

It was organized chaos. Or at least she hoped it was organized. The kids were running around, parents were trying to put hats and sunscreen on their children, and most of the adults looked like they needed coffee. Fiona took a sip of her own steaming cup and sat on the porch steps observing the mass of people. She'd been smart and slathered Jonathan in sunscreen as he was getting dressed. He was far less wiggly when he was still sleepy. Her son was currently on the lawn with some of his cousins, trying to use one of the fishing nets to catch a grasshopper.

Where Fiona was perched, tucked beside the railing, she could hear people before they could see her. And since the giant urn of coffee had been put on a folding table nearby, there were a number of conversations she ended up hearing. The first was between Alicia and Carlos.

"Alicia, honey. He'll be fine. I'll keep an eye on him. We'll all keep an eye on him." Carlos stated confidently.

"I just don't like him so far away. He's only 6 years old. What if he falls in the water?" Alicia sounded stressed, but in Fiona's opinion, falling in the water was half the reason why the kids liked the annual MacCallum fishing trip. They sure never caught much in the way of fish. Besides, the bend in the river where the family always went had slow moving water that wasn't very deep, otherwise she would never allow Johnny to go. There really wasn't anything to worry about. Carlos tried to abate his wife's anxiety.

"Honey, it's only 15 minutes away. Besides I'm not going to let anything happen to our son, okay?" Fiona heard a soft kiss which seemed to signal the end of the discussion because the couple soon moved out of earshot.

The next voice Fiona heard was from her former sister-in-law Peggy.

"Glen, don't be like that. You know your Dad gets called away sometimes, he's the sheriff. His job is important."

"I know," whined Glen, who at 10 was beginning that awkward stage between being a little boy and a teenager. "But he said he was coming." Fiona could practically hear the pout in his voice and definitely heard Peggy sigh.

"Look kiddo," she said with a patient tone. "He hasn't texted me to say that something's come up, so maybe he'll still make it."

Fiona was surprised. It wasn't like Brian to be unreliable. In fact 'dependable' was practically his middle name. Her brother had stepped up when their folks had died, giving up his dreams of becoming an FBI agent to take responsibility for three teenagers. Aiden's career had just started to take off in Chicago, and Colin was on deployment in Afghanistan, so the burden fell to Brian, despite being only 23.

As the youngest Fiona had a different relationship with Aiden than she did with her other brothers. He was twelve years older, so he was already away at college when she was still pretty little. Heck, she wasn't yet 10 when he and Maureen got married and settled in Chicago. She loved him, but they weren't as close as she was to Brian.

Brian was the one who did the most to raise her, and to a lesser extent Declan and Ethan. Growing up, Brian and Colin were extremely close. They were always getting into the kind of mischievous trouble that had Mom and Dad hiding a smile even as they grounded the twins. It hurt both of them to be separated when Colin enlisted after 9/11, but Brian was also immensely proud of his brother. In her whole life, Fiona had only ever seen Brian cry twice; once at Mom and Dad's funeral, and then when the initial news came that Colin had been wounded in action.

Peggy and Glen moved out of earshot, but Fiona made a mental note to be especially attentive to Glen today and to have a word with Brian when he showed up. Brian was going to miss this precious time with his son if he kept pouring himself into his job. She knew first hand just how it felt to wish for more time with your mother or father. Most of the time she thought about her parents with a fond nostalgia, but some days, she missed her parents with an intensity that took her breath away, even all these years later. After a few moments of quiet melancholy at what might have been, another voice filtered through the railing.

"I'm not calling her a slut or anything, I love Fiona. And let's face it...wouldn't you like to take a sip of that tall drink of water if you could." It was Connie. Her salacious commentary made Fiona's face turn red.

"Connie!" Maureen chastised her sister, sounding scandalized.

"I'm just saying. Sam is damn hot, I'm not surprised that he seduced innocent little Fiona back then. And his brother Dean...well, that man is sex on a stick. I'm just surprised that she's letting two obviously dangerous strangers around Johnny." Maureen made a tutting noise.

"C'mon Connie, I'm sure Brian checked these guys out. He told Aiden that Sam saved Deputy Shaw when he could have taken his gun and run - or worse. Besides, have you seen how careful he is with the kids?" It was touching to hear her sister-in-law defend Sam. She wasn't surprised that Brian had called Aiden to talk about Clive's heart attack. Brian liked to appear as if he had everything under control at all times, but she knew that he valued Aiden's support and level-headed opinions.

Sam and his brother were standing a little ways apart from everyone, Dean was talking to someone on his phone and Sam was leaning in close to participate in the conversation. Connie's comment cast a tiny sliver of doubt into Fiona's mind. Watching the two men in question over the rim of her mug she pondered everything she knew about Sam and Dean Winchester.

On one hand, Sam as she had known him 5 years ago was arrogant, impatient and domineering. Connie was right. She remembered thinking that he was tall, dark and very sexy, but it was the tantalizing sense of danger he exuded that had stirred her interest back then. But on the other hand, the man Sam was now appeared to be was kind and sensitive. He'd been respectful to her and her crazy family, and carried Johnny so carefully last night. Every time she saw him watching their son he'd had an expression of wonder on his face. She shook the doubts out of her head and took a sip of her coffee. No, she trusted her instincts. Sam would never hurt her or Jonathan.

Dean, was another story. He seemed far more dangerous. After all, they'd first met when he'd broken into her house and he'd been pretty intimidating in his demand that she confess the truth about Sam. Not that she blamed him for that. Dean had been willing to go toe to toe with Brian, and she got the feeling that he would have no qualms about hurting anyone who dared to harm his younger brother. She'd seen a fierce protectiveness in the older Winchester. But Dean had been very patient and had backed her up when she needed him. Since then he'd also been great with all the children, warm, funny and surprisingly gentle. Her instincts told her that she had nothing to fear from him either.

She'd been thinking so intently that she hadn't heard the first part of the new conversation from the other side of the railing, although she recognized Sharron and Kate as the speakers.

"I honestly don't know," said Sharron. "I'd love to see Fiona happy, but it's not like they dated or anything."

"But Sam is Johnny's daddy. Don't you think it would be best for him to stay and be part of his life?," Kate asked, ever the idealist.

"Sure, but that doesn't mean he and Fiona should just move in together and try to be a couple. They barely know each other. For all we know, Sam has a girlfriend or a wife back home. I figure, as long as he's a decent father to Johnny, I think the family should stay out of it." Sharron had made a good point. Fiona was ashamed that she had never even asked Sam about his life, much less about a significant other back home. In fact, she hadn't really had much of a chance to talk with Sam alone so far this weekend. She made a vow to herself to learn more. There was no way she was going to jump into any relationship with Sam, but if they were going to find some way to co-parent, she probably should know more about him.

"I guess you're right. Still, if he wants to try and be a full-time parent to Jonathan, he's going to have to find a place nearby. I understand that they're from Kansas. It's close, but still too far for the day to day stuff." Kate spoke from experience. She and Alan loved each other, but he traveled a lot for work, leaving Kate, to handle Savannah and Peter by herself a lot of the time.

"Well," continued Sharron, "Colin and I were talking about that, and if he decides to stay, we're going to offer to let Sam live here. Dean too if he wants. That way they can be close to Fiona and Johnny, but not living in their pocket. And if the situation goes Charlie Foxtrot, then Fiona hasn't turned her whole life upside down."

Fiona had a lot to think about. Sharron's plan sounded amazing. Sam could be close by. He could take Johnny to T-ball, and maybe pick him up after school. Although her brother's did what they could to be a father figure to Jonathan, having his own Dad would mean a lot, especially as he got older. There seemed to be a way to make this work. Now she needed to gather her courage, talk to Sam and find out what he intended to do.

Just then she heard the sound of cars coming down the long laneway. Standing, she shaded her eyes against the sun. She recognized Brian's black truck followed by a sedan. Glen ran up to his father's truck almost before Brian had parked.

"Dad!" he cried, jumping around excitedly. "You made it!"

"Hey there buddy," Brian greeted him as he climbed down from the cab, ruffling Glen's hair before pulling his son in for a hug. "Sorry I'm late. I had to go to the airport to pick up some cargo." Brian laughed as Alan and Peter got out of the passenger side of the vehicle. Kate caught sight of her husband and son and ran over to welcome them both. Savannah actually put down her phone long enough to give her dad a hug.

The silver sedan parked beside the truck and spilled out it's passengers. This time it was Heather whose family arrived. She got mobbed by her three kids for hugs, and gave Joey a kiss over their children's heads. It was sweet to see. As she watched the reunion, Aunt Kathy joined Fiona on the steps.

'Well now, I think that's everyone we were expecting. It's so nice to see so much family together at one time." Clasping her hands, Kathy seemed genuinely moved. Looking at Fiona she patted her cheek. "Lots of people aren't so lucky, honey," she added before moving on to welcome her son-in-law and grandson. Fiona had to agree. The MacCallums and extended family were a lot to handle, but she loved them all despite the chaos that continued in front of her. Ethan wandered by looking for more coffee.

"Hey Ethan," Fiona called to her brother, disrupting his route to the coffee urn. He stopped and waited to see what she wanted. "How is everyone getting to the river? We'd need to take a lot of cars." His face split into a grin.

"Well, Jacob made arrangements for that. In fact…" he glanced at his watch. "Our ride should be here any minute." He filled his mug and returned to stand beside her.

"So Fi, how're you holding up?" he asked. Fiona was scanning the crowd of kids, looking for Johnny. If they were going soon, she wanted to make sure he hadn't lost his hat.

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" she replied absently.

"Geez, I don't know. Maybe because you spent the day yesterday with a one-night stand you thought you were never going to see again? Maybe because there's a relative stranger and his brother who are hanging out with your family? Or maybe because Johnny met his father - a man who now has a claim of his own on your son?" His tone was sarcastic, but Fiona still recognized the concern underneath.

"I'm fine, really." At his skeptical look, Fiona elaborated. "Okay sure. I never thought I'd see Sam again. But he'd not like he was back then. He and Dean seem like good people - they've been great with Johnny and the rest of the kids. And how better to get to know them then to see how they handle the extended family?" His comment about Sam's claim on Jonathan made her anxious, so she ignored it, hiding her worry under a guise of frustration. She was still figuring out what kind of relationship she wanted to have with him, but he was her son's father, he deserved a chance to be part of Johnny's life. How could she deny her baby boy a loving father?

"Okay, okay. I wasn't trying to start something, I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay." He held his free hand up in surrender. She relented and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I know you were, and I love you for it. Just...give me some time to get my head around everything will you? I haven't even really had a chance to talk to Sam, so until I do, I have no idea where we go from here." He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.

"Sure thing Sis, whatever you need." She hugged him back for a second before Jacob bounded over, breathless with enthusiasm.

"They're here," Jacob gushed, obviously brimming over with anticipation as he pointed down the lane. Fiona didn't see anything at first, but just as she heard the steady clop, clop of its hooves, the first horse became visible between the trees. A line of 6 giant horses were pulling a long flat wagon piled high with bales of hay. Mrs. Jennings, their neighbour, was driving the team and pulled up effortlessly in the open space behind the parked cars. Jacob dashed down to meet the woman.

"Hey everyone," called Ethan loudly from beside Fiona. When all eyes were on him, he continued. "Mrs. Jennings' here is going to drive us all to the river. So, everyone line up for a hayride." As the kids scurried over to get a closer look at the horses, Ethan leaned over to whisper to her. "Jacob was so excited to surprise everyone. Don't worry, Declan and I are going to drive the gear over so that nobody gets stabbed by a fishing rod."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my next chapter. I apologize for anyone who was hoping for some hayride hi-jinks. I originally had the ride in the story, but found it just wouldn't work. So this chapter opens after the group has arrived at the river. Special thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read my little story!

The bend in the Kemp River was formed by a flat outcropping of natural rock. Tucked behind that rock was a sandy bank that had formed over the millennia. It was a tranquil, secluded place, lined with shady trees and full of bird song. At some point in the past, a bridge across the river had been built nearby. Once it may have transported horse drawn traffic, but now it was only accessible by foot and for as long as anyone present could remember, it had been nothing more than a favourite spot for fishing during the day and romantic trysts once the sun went down.

Although generations of visitors had changed this spot, it was only the locals who knew about it, so most of the changes were improvements. There were some fallen logs that everyone used as chairs, scrubbed grey and smooth from generations of jeans and swimsuits. Someone had augmented the natural sand with a load or two for the kids to play in. Although there were dog paw prints, and evidence of an occasional camp fire, the people who visited tended to clean up after themselves. Even the teenagers who came here to hang out in the long summer evenings, usually left only their initials carved into the footings of the bridge, sometimes not far from where their parents had done the same a generation earlier.

Sam inhaled a deep breath and let the sun shine on his face. It wasn't very often that he and Dean had a chance to go fishing. It had been years maybe. Although, to be honest, Dean did most of the fishing, it wasn't really Sam's thing. Instead, when they did get the chance, he'd pretend to read a book while secretly enjoying the unusual sight of his older brother relaxed and peaceful. Dean was so seldom at peace, so whenever he could indulge him, Sam would. He'd pass Dean the occasional beer and keep his conversation to a minimum, content with an amicable silence.

There was no silence now with so many people on the riverbank. The little kids had regretfully said goodbye to the horses and now were playing in the sand. Most of the mothers had planted themselves in folding chairs at the edge of the tree line to watch and talk. The older kids and most of the dads had moved out onto the rocks with fishing rods. Dean and Declan had excused themselves and taken rods and some bait to find a way up onto the bridge. Jacob had chosen to ride back with Mrs. Jennings, but promised them at least two hours before the wagon would come back to pick up the family. Sam had planned to snag a chair or a log and watch Jonathan play with his cousins, but Fiona had tugged his arm during the wagon ride over and asked him to join her.

Now, she handed him two chairs and pointed to a sunny area a little removed from the rest of the family.

"Here will do, Sam. That way we can still see Johnny." Sam unfolded the chairs and put them down, trying to find a somewhat level spot. Fiona took one and gestured towards the other. "Please..sit, I just wanted to have a little chat, and the house is so chaotic with everyone there." He did as he told, even as he felt a flutter of apprehension in his stomach. The chair was far too low for him, so he ended up sticking his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. Fiona copied his pose and waved at their son who had paused to look for his mother. With a smile, the little guy went back to determinedly filling a pail with sand.

"So, uh, what did you want to talk about Fiona?" Was she going to ask him to leave? To stay away from Jonathan? He could feel his shirt cling to his sweat-damp back. Fiona twisted the corner of her cotton blouse in her fingers.

"Actually, I just wondered about you, Sam. We're in this - um, unusual situation together, and you've met most of my crazy family." she paused to chuckle, "Heck, by now you've probably seen my baby pictures. I'm just, um, just embarrassed to admit that I don't know anything about you and your life." She smiled at him and it was his turn to fidget. It made sense that she'd want to know something about him. Of course his life was made up of things he generally couldn't or didn't want to talk about. Still, he twitched her his own small smile.

"Your family's great. Everyone has been so nice, you're really lucky to have them." He knew he was avoiding the question, but where could he possibly start?

"I am lucky," she said, the fondness in her voice evident, but she was not to be deterred. "So, what about you? Tell me about your family?" He cleared his throat, at least that was relatively easy to answer.

"Well,there's not much to tell. It's really just Dean and me." That was the truth, well except for Cas who was like a brother to them both.

"What about your parents?" Fiona turned to give him her full attention, but he avoided her gaze and kept his eyes on Jonathan and the group of playing children.

"My Mom died when I was a baby, so I never really knew her." Thinking about Mom always made him wistful, but he thought of her often and fondly.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Fiona patted his arm. When he didn't continue on his own she prompted. "So your Dad raised you and Dean by himself?" Sam suppressed a sigh. John Winchester was a complicated topic. For a long time Sam had been angry with Dad, for how he had stolen Dean's childhood, for the way he treated his sons like soldiers, for all the fear and neglect and disappointment that littered his younger years. But now he had a lot more perspective. His father had struggled a lot as a parent, but he had loved them intensely. Looking over at Johnny, he found himself with a new compassion for Dad and the impossible choices he'd had to make.

"Yeah." Sam swallowed his emotions, his eyes still on his son. "We moved around a lot for Dad's work. He was gone a lot and so Dean took care of me when I was little."

"Ah," Fiona said knowingly. "That explains why you two are so close." She twisted to look over her shoulder downriver to where Dean and Declan were casting their lines off the side of the bridge. "I thought my brothers were overprotective, but he barely lets you out of his sight." Sam had to nod, but she had no idea what he owed his brother.

"We watch out for each other," Sam stated simply. After everything they'd been through recently, the overprotective part went both ways. Sam had done the unthinkable to save Dean. At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do, the only thing to do. But maybe by releasing the Darkness, he had saved his brother at the expense of the rest of the world, including Fiona, Jonathan and the rest of her family. That thought had him shifting restlessly in his seat. When they had called him this morning, Cas hadn't found anything new on Amara or Metatron and Sam felt guilty that they were hanging out here instead of working on finding a solution to either one of those problems. He had more than just Dean, Cas and their few friends to care about now.

"So, where is your Dad?" Her question was gentle as if she already knew the answer.

"He, uh passed away. About 9 years ago." Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, he could still see that hospital room, Dad sprawled, unmoving on the floor. Guilt welled up as it always did. The last thing he'd done before Dad died was to try and pick a fight with the man. It was one of his many regrets when it came to his relationship with his father. He'd give a lot to have a chance to make it right, but it was something he'd had to learn to live with.

Sam became aware of the silence that stretched awkwardly between him and Fiona. Clearing his throat again he forced his thoughts back to the present. "So, uh, what else did you want to know?" Obviously grateful for a way back into the conversation, Fiona took the opening.

"Oh, um...well what do you do for a living?" Sam had this one down, it was a question he'd been dodging most of his adult life.

"Dean and I inherited the family business from our Dad. We kind of specialize in unusual pest control. You know Fiona, I never asked what you do?" Turning the question back on the woman seemed unkind, but it was a time tested strategy in diversion.

"Oh, I manage a bookstore. I started there in high school and just never really left. When I got pregnant with Johnny, I dropped out of college and started working there full time. My brothers weren't very happy, but it was the right choice at the time. When Jonathan gets a little bit older, I might go back and finish my degree, but for now I love the store."

"What were you studying?" Sam could relate. For a long time he had imagined that he would go back to school and at least finish his undergraduate degree. That dream was long dead, but he had found peace with that. Somehow over the years, he grew to love his life. Hunting was something he was good at, something that helped people. Now that he had Dean back, he couldn't imagine giving it up. At least until yesterday when he met his son; now he wasn't so sure.

"Well my plan was to get a degree in English literature, then get my Masters and become a librarian. But being at the bookstore is kind of the next best thing, you know? The hours are flexible so I have lots of time for Johnny, and I get to read all the new releases before everyone else." She sounded content, and Sam was happy for her.

"What about you? Did you go to college?," she asked.

"For three years, I did. Yeah, I was working towards becoming a lawyer, but…," he shrugged. "My family needed me and then life went in another direction." It felt disrespectful to Jessica's memory to skip over her death, but he it didn't seem like the time to share her memory. They both fell quiet for a while, watching the children play and just enjoying the sunshine. Fiona was shooting glances at him, but he pretended not to notice. She obviously had more on her mind, but he could be patient. Straightening in her chair, Fiona spoke again.

"So, um, I don't mean to pry, but do you have a uh, a girlfriend or a...wife or someone." Her cheeks were pink as she determinedly scratched at a non-existent mark on her shorts. Against his will, Sam's thoughts flitted away from Jessica towards his most recent hook-up with that waitress, Piper and he felt his own face flush a bit.

"No, no one like that," he answered. He'd be lying if he hadn't thought about it occasionally, but for now he was definitely single.

"I'm not…. It's not like I'm….I only ask because I wondered if you had someone waiting for you back in Kansas." She was obviously flustered and Sam found himself resisting the urge to tease her.

"It's okay, I get it. No, Dean and I, our work takes us all over the country. Not really conducive to a long term relationship." How did Dean describe it? They were "batting zero" in domestic life. All Fiona's embarrassment dropped away and after a few moments she turned to him, a serious expression on her face.

"Sam, look, I'm not trying to pin you down to anything, but what does that mean for Jonathan? I know you only found out about him yesterday, but I'd like to know what part you're planning to play in his life." She looked away and in a small voice added "if any."

Fiona deserved an answer, but honestly Sam wasn't sure what words he could use to describe his tangled feelings. Of course he wanted to see his son grow up. The little boy was amazing and the idea of being his Dad, teaching him, caring for him, protecting him was an honour both thrilling and terrifying. He'd only known Johnny for a short time, but he already irrevocably loved the kid more than he could possibly have imagined. If he was a regular guy, he would dedicate the rest of his life to being the best father possible.

But he wasn't a regular guy. Regular guys didn't fight monsters, regular guys weren't responsible for starting the apocalypse, regular guys hadn't spent a couple of centuries in Hell. Sam knew he was damaged and screwed up. Knew that if he ever allowed himself to think about all the trauma he'd lived through, that he would crack into a million pieces. What could he teach his son except for hunting? How could he care for and protect Jonathan when he was so messed up himself? He wasn't worthy to be the little guy's Dad. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he grappled with what to say. Instead, Fiona stopped him with a shake of her head and a raised hand.

"I don't need an answer right now. I understand that you have a life and that finding out about Johnny was...unexpected." It was her turn to sigh. "If you want to stay - become part of his life full-time, then great! Colin and Sharron have offered you and Dean a place to stay, and we can figure the rest out. If you want to be a part time father, we need to set some ground rules, but we can make that work too. But, if you're planning to disappear on us…." she let the sentence trail away. "I just don't want him to get hurt. So think about it, Sam. Really think about it, and let me know what you decide." Pushing to her feet, she gave him a sad smile before heading over to where the kids were playing.

Sam sat there, feeling like a fool and a fraud. He didn't have an answer to give her, It wasn't as simple as choosing Jonathan. He glanced over his shoulder towards the bridge, instinctively seeking out Dean as he always had when he didn't know what to do. It wasn't a simple decision in any way, and one that he couldn't make just yet.


	19. Chapter 19

The bridge gave Dean a good view of the whole riverbank and enabled him to keep an eye on everyone at the same time. The kids and adults were sprawled along the shore and up on the rocks that jutted out into the water. Like most civilians the MacCallum's were blissfully unaware of the monsters that lived among them. There was no reason to think that anything dangerous was around right now, but being watchful was second nature to Dean, even while relaxing. It was a beautiful day. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair, the sun was comfortably hot on his skin and since Sam had nagged him into using sunscreen, he caught the faint scent of coconut every time he moved.

Elbows propped on the railing of the bridge, Dean had his fishing rod lazily dangling from his hand. Declan was lounging beside him, but the other man seemed to be comfortable just to be fishing and the lack of conversation was pleasant. As always, he kept one eye on Sam. His brother was sitting, talking with Fiona a little ways apart from the rest of her family. Sam's long legs were stretched out in front of him, the picture of relaxation except that even at a distance Dean recognized that Sam was far from relaxed. He tried not to worry, but this whole situation was so far outside his knowledge base. How could he help Sam? He didn't exactly have a great record when it came to family life. Memories of Ben and Lisa crept into his thoughts, but he shoved them down fiercely. This was not the time to get caught up in his own nostalgia.

Fiona got up and left Sam sitting in the sun, then Sammy got up and strolled out of sight. It wasn't very long afterwards, that he heard a familiar footstep on the bridge.

"Catch anything?" Sam asked as he joined them at the railing.

"Nah, just enjoying the day," answered Declan for both of them.

"Everything okay?," Dean questioned even as he knew Sam wouldn't answer truthfully with Declan there. But something was up, otherwise Sam wouldn't have come to find him.

"Yeah, fine." To anyone else, Sam looked at ease, but Dean could sense the distress simmering underneath the placid surface. His brother leaned against the railing beside him and stared at the water. Dean didn't push. He had learned a long time ago that the best way to get Sam to talk when he was like this was to wait. Sam shifted a little closer and Dean was reminded of a much younger Sammy who would sidle up next to him every time he was anxious or upset. It brought a smile to his face, even as he was concerned for his kid brother.

Declan shot a glance their way, but Dean ignored it, although he was grateful when a short time later, Declan reeled in his line.

"Well, I'm getting too hot up here, so I'm going to go in search of some shade. See you two later," he said amicably and strolled off the bridge. Dean wondered briefly if the other man had perceived the tension Sam was trying to hide, but decided it didn't matter. He reeled in his own line and cast it out again, content to wait for Sam to open up about what was bothering him.

"So, uh, Fiona asked me what role I intend to play in Jonathan's life," Sam said, his voice tight. "She's looking for an answer." Dean's heart lurched into his throat even as he forced himself to project calm. The decision had to be Sam's and he wasn't going to do anything to influence his brother one way or another at this point.

"And?" Dean's hands clenched the fishing rod in his hands as he braced himself for Sam's answer. Part of him was intensely happy for the kid. This was the life he had always dreamed about for Sammy. To be happy, loved, safe. To have a family with kids and maybe someday a wife. To grow old in peace and comfort. Still another part of him was terrified. If Sam stayed here Dean would be alone. Sure he'd have Cas around, but as much as Cas was family, he wasn't Sam. Cas also had a bad habit of leaving. God only knows what was coming with the Darkness, but he knew he couldn't face it alone.

"I...I don't...I'm not...What if…" Sam sputtered all pretense of calm shattered as he spun to sit with his back against the railing.

"Sam, pick a sentence and go with it," Dean admonished fondly, pushing aside his own fears to help his brother. Sam huffed a wry smile.

"Sorry," Sam dragged his long fingers through his hair and Dean turned to face him, the importance of this conversation weighing like a stone in his gut. Taking a deep breath Sam continued. "I know that I want to be some part of Jonathan's life." The confidence in his brother's declaration felt like a door slamming in Dean's soul.

"I can think of a thousand reasons why I shouldn't, but I need to try. Colin and Sharron have offered to let me stay with them." He caught Dean's eye with a pleading look, "To let both of us stay with them." Damn, it was so tempting, but even before Sam was finished speaking Dean was shaking his head.

"That's great Sam, and if you want to stay and help raise your son, you should do that." He meant it, he really did. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady. "But..I can't stay here with you."

Sammy could adapt, could give up hunting and live a normal apple-pie life. He'd done it before, and he could do it again. But Dean - he couldn't. He knew that in his bones. If he tried to stay, it was only a matter of time before the Darkness would find them, before the darkness he had inside of him would poison Sam's chance at happiness. Their life didn't let go, not of both of them. Monsters would always find them, and he would always need to do whatever it took to stop them. So, he couldn't stay. It would hurt like cutting off his fucking arm with a pen knife, but just like when Sam went to Stanford, he could do it. He could let Sam go if he knew his brother was happy. And if only one of them was going to get that chance, it was damn well going to be Sam.

Sam swung around to face him head on. Dean could see the emotions warring in his expression, hurt, disbelief, desperation, then acceptance. Sam's jaw clenched and he looked away out over the sunshine soaked riverbank. His brother stared at where Johnny sat in the sand playing while Dean reeled in his line. He'd expected Sam to argue with him, turn on those puppy dog eyes of his and plead for Dean to change his mind, but Sam was motionless beside him for a long moment.

"Alright," he finally said, rolling some of the tension out of his shoulders. "So I'll get a car. We're not that far away, I'll visit Jonathan when I can and...we'll figure something out." Dean could almost see Sam's big brain start making plans as he spoke. "Yeah, I'll make a schedule, come spend birthdays and holidays. It'll be fine." Dean sighed, he knew first hand that you can't have one foot in and one foot out of this life. He'd tried with Lisa and Ben, and look how great that had turned out.

"Sam," he murmured sadly before his brother cut him off with a rough gesture.

"No Dean. I can do this. I have to do this." Sam gripped Dean's arm. "I want to be a part of Johnny's life but, I just got you back. I'm NOT giving you up, now." Sam was staring at him with a stubborn intensity. Dean didn't know what to say even as a warm feeling uncurled in his chest. His mind flashed back to that restaurant, the power of the Mark singing through his blood, Sam on his knees, begging him to believe. The faith Sam had in him was undeserved then and it sure wasn't worth the risk now. He was moved by Sam's bold statement, and love for his brother surged through him, even as the idea of losing him threatened to swamp him with sadness.

"Hey guys!" Both Winchesters were startled by Dennis calling up from below the bridge. "Our ride back will be here in a little while." Tearing his eyes from Sam's, Dean waved an acknowledgement. There was a lot more to say to Sam, a lot of convincing he had to do, but his brother quickly brushed by and there was nothing for Dean to do but follow him off the bridge.

xxxxxxxx

"Mind if I sit here?" Dean turned to see Uncle Murray lower himself down beside him on the step. The back porch stairs were on the side of the house, away from where the rest of the family were sitting, talking, laughing and digesting another wonderful lunch. Dean had chosen to nurse his beer here, to get a bit of a breather from all the people and to digest Sam's emotional declaration back on the bridge. His brother had been casually avoiding him since then, choosing to throw himself wholeheartedly into mingling with the MacCallums. Which was fine with Dean, really it was. Sam was a part of their family now, one way or another.

Glen, Peter and Noah ran by, shouting and laughing. "If only I had that kind of energy," the older gentlemen beside him lamented and Dean had to chuckle. They watched the boys chase each other in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"Never had any of my own." At Dean's puzzled glance, Uncle Murray clarified. "Children, I mean." The old man pointed at the kids with his chin. "How about you?" Dean thought for a moment, about Ben, about Emma, but then shook his head. Some doors should remain closed.

"Ah, but Kathy told me that you helped raise your brother." Both men turned to look at Sam's tall figure who had joined the kids in tossing around a football. Dean studied his brother with pride.

"Yeah, I did," he answered simply, allowing affection to creep into his tone. It had only been recently that he felt like he could take some credit for Sammy's upbringing without dishonoring their Dad, but it was true. In many ways he had been both a mother, and a father to Sam on top of trying to be a brother and a friend. Uncle Murray shaded his eyes against the sun to watch Sam and the children play.

"I know a little bit about that. My mother was what you would call, fragile. She was a wispy kind of woman and my father treated her like a princess. Made sure she never had to trouble herself with the difficult parts of life. So when my father died when I was 12, I had to step up and take care of the family, take care of my brother and sister, William and Debbie." Dean found himself paying closer attention to the older man.

"It was hard, and I didn't know what I was doing most of the time. Mom passed when I was 18. And eventually, William and Debbie grew up and didn't need me as much anymore. So I focused on my career. I figured I had lots of time to find a girl, get married, have a few kids of my own. Yet somehow, there was always something more important to do. One more achievement to go after. And then Debbie's husband Roger died, then William and Maggie, then Debbie passed." The old man shook his head sadly. "So much death…" Now that was something Dean could relate to. Thinking about Mom, Dad, and everyone else he and Sam had lost was gut wrenching. He took a sip of his warming beer. The other man had a point that he was trying to make and Dean wished he'd get to it.

"Anyway, I tried to do the best I could for their kids. Then suddenly, I turned around and I was an old man." Murray waved a self-deprecating hand at himself. "I never did get married or have kids of my own. But I have nephews and nieces that I love, and now another precious generation of children to spoil." The old man narrowed his eyes, freezing Dean with his intensity.

"My point is, the family you imagined, isn't always the family you get. Things may not have happened the way we might have wanted them to, but Sam is Jonathan's father. And every kid deserves to grow up surrounded by all the family they can get."

"I agree," His response seemed to surprise the older man. "If Sam wants to stay and be with Johnny, I'm not going to stop him." It hurt Dean to say it, but he knew it was true. If Sammy had a chance to be happy, to see his son grow up, to have a normal life full of coaching T-ball, parent teacher interviews and family holidays, he would never stand in the way, no matter how much he would miss him. Uncle Murray gave him an approving smile. The old guy reminded him a bit of Bobby, so much so that emotions threatened to surface. Dean ruthlessly swallowed them with another sip of beer.

"Good." Uncle Murray said. "And Dean?" He waited until Dean turned his head to look him in the eye. "Families come in all different shapes and sizes. There's room in ours for Sam and you both." Dean had to smile at the kind-hearted comment. The offer meant a lot, even as he knew it wasn't that easy. The other man pushed to his feet, and with a parting squeeze to Dean's shoulder, ambled back to the front porch.

Dean sat for a bit longer, draining his warming beer. The idea of a big, loving family was appealing, but he knew himself, knew what his life was. He couldn't stay in one place for too long, not when people needed saving. In one way or another, hunting had been all he'd known for over 30 years now. It was his life, it was all he was ever good at. Even now the urge to get back into Baby and hit the road was starting to faintly gnaw at him. The MacCallums were nice, a lot kinder to him and Sam than he had expected, but he had seen too much - done too much. Like a square peg in a round hole, he didn't fit and never would. But maybe, just maybe he could drop by sometimes, visit with Sam and Jonathan once in a while. Maybe have a place in this world that welcomed him back, even temporarily.

Footsteps behind him broke him from his reverie. April was holding baby Maison and herding little Zoe towards the door behind him. She saw him and smiled.

"Hey Dean. Do you mind getting the door?" He jumped to his feet and she paused while he held it open for her. Zoe goggled up at him from around his knee level, one lazy hand grinding at her sleepy eyes and the other clutched firmly to April's pant leg.

"Do you need a hand?," he offered, not sure that he actually would be much help, but wanting to be polite.

"Nah, thanks. I volunteered for nap duty, so there's not much to do but get these two horizontal. You should go rejoin everybody, they're about to start." With those cryptic words she disappeared into the cool dark house. Dean's curiosity was stirred, so he closed the door softly and made his way towards the front of the house.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait since the last chapter. It has been an extraordinarily busy week at work. Just a note to my readers - I know that this story has slowed down a lot. It is set over 6 days (Wednesday when Sam was arrested to where I end the story on Monday.) As a result of this timeline, we spend a lot of time at the MacCallum Family reunion and getting to know this large extended family. I try to keep the focus on Sam and Dean, their relationship and emotions as much as possible, but I appreciate the last few chapters have been fairly fluffy. Don't worry there is more angst to come.

"And 'den I poured the water and it made a spoosh" Jonathan demonstrated by waving his hands and making sound effects more suited to an explosion than the creation of a sand castle moat. Sam didn't care, watching Johnny's eyes sparkle. The glee in his little face was enthralling. He could gladly spend the rest of the afternoon with his son tucked up beside him nattering away. Fleetingly he wondered how he could love this little guy so much, so suddenly. It was almost overwhelming, it made his chest ache in a good way and warmed him to his very core.

"Are you listening to me?," Jonathan asked, scowling adorably with his head tilted to one side and a little fist on his hip. Sam nodded at his son but heard a familiar chuckle behind him. Glancing up he saw Dean leaning against the post nearby.

"You used to ask me that about 3 million times a day." Dean's smile hid a touch of sadness and Sam swore to himself that he'd find a way to share this wonderful new experience with his brother. Dean crouched down to get closer to Johnny's level. "You should ask Sam about Bumper." The little guy looked puzzled and tugged on Sam's shirt.

"Whose dat?" Sam had a visceral memory of a beloved stuffed dog that he'd had as a little boy. Bobby had given him the floppy stuffy at some point, and he vaguely remembered carrying it around for years, until it got left behind in some motel. He hadn't thought about the toy for ages. He was about to explain to Jonathan when they were loudly interrupted.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!" Colin's voice was amplified by the megaphone into a booming squawk that brought all other conversation to a halt. Judging by the looks on the faces around him, Sam figured this was something of a tradition. The children were excited, but some of the adults were rolling their eyes, albeit good naturedly. Declan was standing next to his brother on the lawn with a large box and a clipboard.

"It's time for the 7th annual MacCallum Family Olympics!" There were a lot of cheers and a few groans from the group on the porch. Looking down, Sam could see the enthusiasm on Jonathan's face. Colin continued with an exaggerated flourish.

"When I call your name, please come get your team colours. Then you'll have a few minutes to finish your drinks, slather on some more sunscreen or what have you. The games proper will start in 15 minutes in the area behind the barn."

Apparently there were five teams represented with different coloured bandannas; red, blue, green, yellow and purple. Declan handed out the fabric squares from the box as Colin called each name and Sam was amused by the groaning from some of the adults as they went to collect their kerchief. He was surprised when he heard his own name called.

"Okay, Sam...where's Sam?," Colin called. Sam reluctantly got to his feet and went out onto the lawn.

"Didn't think you were getting out of this one did you?" Declan asked with a grin as he handed him a blue bandanna. "Don't worry, we rigged it so that Jonathan is on your team," he whispered, emphasizing his words with a wink. Sam stuffed the square of cloth into a pocket and returned to the stairs. He was curious what they meant by "olympics" but figured time spent with his son was worth whatever embarrassment was forthcoming.

As he retook his seat he heard Colin call Dean's name. Honestly, it made him happy to think that the family had gone out of their way to include them both considering he and Dean had only been invited at the last minute. His brother looked surprised but as enthusiastic as his nephew. Dean thrived with a little competition, always had. It was one of the things that made him so good at poker and pool. Of course it wouldn't do for him to be too competitive, they were guests here. As Dean walked by him to pick up his own bandana Sam stopped him.

"Hey, take it easy, okay?"

"Who me?," Dean asked with a faked look of offense. "You just better hope I go easy on you, kiddo," he said with a not so subtle nudge as he pushed past. There was a twinkle in Dean's eye that made Sam breathe a bit easier. Maybe some wholesome family fun was just what they both needed right now. Dean was assigned to the purple team and a few minutes later Jonathan went to go get his blue bandanna.

"Look, I'm on your team," the little guy shouted as he ran back to where Sam was sitting. Fiona appeared and held out her hand to Johnny.

"That will be fun, huh Bug? But right now, let's go find your hat, okay. We'll see Sam in a few minutes." Over their son's head, Fiona gave him a serious look. "Look out for him, please?" Sam nodded.

"Of course." After a moment, she took him at his word and with a hand on the back of Jonathan's head, ushered him into the house. Sam could only watch as they left, slightly hurt that she assumed that he would do anything less, but Dean slapped his arm before he could let it bother him too much.

"C'mon, let's go see what they have set up."

xxxxxxx

There were a number of stations set up across the wide expanse of grass. Some in the shadow of the barn, where the temperature was a bit cooler, and some out in the sun. At one spot, Aunt Kathy was sitting in a lawn chair under an umbrella. She had a makeshift "Start" sign next to her and a bucket full of colorful balloons filled with water at her feet. Sam tied his blue bandanna around his head karate style, and went to join his group. Each team consisted of four adults and three kids. Sam's blue team was made up of Jonathan, Logan and Glen and the adults were Maureen, Matt, and Brian. The sheriff was out of uniform, his kerchief was tied onto a belt loop of his shorts but he still carried an air of authority about him that made Sam a little uncomfortable. Standing next to the law man, he tried to stay relaxed as he watched the other groups gather, tying on bandannas and chatting excitedly.

"So, how are you doing?," the sheriff asked. The last person Sam expected small talk from was Brian, but he answered the question.

"Uh, okay, I guess." Sam rubbed his hands on his thighs. "This seems like a pretty big deal," he said, gesturing towards the teams and Declan and Colin who were moving between them, clipboards in hand.

"Yeah, Colin and Declan spend months organizing these games. When we all get together, we can be a little, uh overpowering." Brian sounded hesitant, and Sam wasn't sure how to respond. Finally he decided to take the gesture as an olive branch.

"A little, but everyone has been so nice. And it's really been a lot of fun so far." Brian nodded, then jammed his hands in his pockets and concentrated on kicking at a small rock with his toe. Sam watched their sons as Glen helped Jonathan fold and tie his bandanna around his neck. Finally Brian cleared his throat softly, his voice pitched for Sam's ears only.

"Look, I just want you to know that I'm sorry about everything that happened." Even as the sheriff spoke, Sam realized he didn't need an apology. Brian was only trying to protect his sister. The truth was out now, and Sam just wanted to move on, so he interrupted before Brian could continue.

"No, no I get it. It's your family. I understand. I'd do anything for Dean, and if anyone hurt him, well…." He didn't finish. People had hurt Dean, in many different ways and too many times to count. Including Sam himself. But, he'd always done his level best to make them pay. How could he judge Brian when he'd done so much worse to avenge Dean? The two men lapsed into silence, but Sam could feel a new ease between him and the sheriff.

"How's Deputy Shaw?," Sam thought to ask.

"Better. He's stable for now and last night when I spoke with his wife, he was having some tests. He'll have to have bypass surgery but…," Brian met Sam's eyes, "It looks like he'll pull through, and that's thanks to you." It was Sam's turn to stare at his feet. Brian touched his arm and Sam looked up again. "Seriously Sam. Thank you." There was a deep sincerity in the sheriff's voice, so even though he felt like he hadn't done anything to deserve the thanks, Sam nodded.

"Of course. I'm just glad he's going to be okay." Breaking up the moment, Jonathan tugged on Sam's pant leg.

"Up please" the little guy asked, arms wide. Sam picked up his son carefully and swung him onto his shoulders. Maureen smiled at him as she tied her own bandanna around her ponytail and Matt was on his knees talking with Logan. As he so often did, Sam sought out Dean who was with his purple team mates. Dean caught him looking and gave him an enormous grin, waggling his eyebrows. Sam had to laugh out loud at that. Sometimes it was hard to remember that his older brother, the lethal hunter, the Righteous Man who had been to Hell and Purgatory, the guy who so often carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, could still act like a big kid. After a few more minutes Colin called for everyone's attention and the games began.

Xxxxxxx

The MacCallum Family Olympics were really just a series of kid friendly games. They popped balloons by sitting on them, tossed water balloons across a series of increasing spaces, carried eggs in spoons, threw bean bags, and hula hooped. Sharing it all with Jonathan made everything seem special and Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much simple fun. Maybe it had been when they had LARPed which was, - God, pushing three years ago now. Even then, he had been worried about Cas, and pissed at Dean for the stunt he'd pulled sending him to Amelia. It said something about their lives that having fun was such a rare commodity. Part of what made this time competing in goofy games so enjoyable was watching Dean get loose and relaxed.

The last game of the afternoon was a water relay. The objective was for each team to move water from one bucket to another across the grass playing field using nothing but a bunch of sponges. The cheers and jeers from everyone were loud in Sam's ears as he sprinted across the lawn towards his bucket. The Blue team was going to win, in part because Sam had big hands and a longer stride than anyone else. He squeezed the water into the blue bucket and tossed his sponge in the air in celebration. Matt and Brian slapped him on the back, Maureen hugged him, and the kids jumped up and down cheering.

Dean's Purple team was neck and neck with Yellow for second place. Fiona and Dean raced across the grass, trailing rivulets of water from their over-saturated sponges. Dean edged Fiona out, the water he had in his hands topped up the purple bucket to the required amount just seconds before Fiona. The purple team celebrated wildly with Sharron fist pumping in excitement.

"Yeah! Whooo hooo!" Dean whooped, high five-ing Dylan and Chloe and looking far too smug considering he had won second place in a kids game. Before Sam could poke a little fun at his brother, Fiona suddenly picked up the yellow bucket and heaved it at Dean, smacking him in the chest with a giant wave of water.

There was a fierce splash, and Dean went rigid, an almost comical look of surprise frozen on his face. There were droplets of water clinging to his lashes and hair, his t-shirt was plastered to him and it looked like he'd been swimming in his jeans. For a millisecond Dean looked down at his dripping torso then threw his head back and started laughing. He laughed so hard that he had to support himself on Sharron's shoulder. Sam couldn't help but laugh too. Seeing Dean let go and have a great time made him happy.

"Alright everyone, that's a wrap!" Colin had to use the megaphone to be heard over all the laughing and chatter. "Everyone go dry off, get cleaned up and we'll do the medal presentation after dinner." Slowly the crowd began to disperse. The kids were shooed back towards the barn and Dean strolled over toward Sam, water still dripping from his clothes.

"Dude, you'd be less wet if you took a shower," Sam sputtered while laughing at how ridiculous his brother looked. He had a few damp spots from the sponges, but compared to Dean he had been spared a soaking, the sun baking the moisture out of his clothes pretty quickly.

"Totally worth it," Dean said with a grin, ruffling his own soggy hair which made him look like a drenched hedgehog. He gave Sam an assessing look before spreading his arms wide. "You're looking a little dry there Sammy. C'mon give me a hug." Dean lunged at him, but Sam ducked, avoiding the wet embrace. If he giggled like a schoolgirl as Dean chased him around the lawn, well he'd chalk it up later to too much sun.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Canada Day to my Canadian readers. Thanks to everyone who left kudos and to shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for the review. Here is some angst to help balance the fluffiness of last chapter.

An hour later, Dean had showered and was finally back in dry clothes. Slung around his neck was the towel he'd been rubbing across his now almost dry hair. He'd wrung out his jeans and t-shirt and now they were draped around their room to dry. The window was open, a warm breeze brought the smell of cut grass and honeysuckle, and late afternoon sunshine was heating up the wooden floor under his feet. Sam was sprawled on his bed, hands behind his head. His brother had a tiny pensive frown between his eyebrows, but generally seemed rested and unburdened for once.

Dean tossed his damp towel in Sam's face as he sat on his bed to pull on clean socks. Sam scowled at him, but simply hung the towel over the bedpost. Oh oh, if the kid didn't retaliate then he was deep in thought. Maybe he had changed his mind about trying to stay with Dean and be a part time dad? This afternoon, he'd told old Murray the truth, if Sam wanted to retire from hunting, build a life with his son and this family, well Dean wasn't going to get in the way. Didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt more than anything. His whole life he'd tried to make Sam happy. More often than not he'd failed, sometimes in epic, disastrous fashion, but he'd tried. Deep down he always knew that he wasn't enough, that Sam would always leave. His brother craved normal and that was one thing Dean could never provide.

A soft knock on the door broke both brothers from their musing and Dean padded over to the door in his sock feet. Sharron and Colin were there, looking slightly nervous.

"Hi Dean. Is this a bad time?" Colin asked.

"Nah." Swinging the door opened he gestured them in. He didn't fail to notice that Sharron closed it behind them. The bedroom was a fair size but having 4 adults in it at the same time made it seem small. Dean went and sat beside Sam who had swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His shoulder was close enough to Sam's that he could feel the tension in the younger man's body. Sharron laughed lightly.

"Jesus. At ease everyone. No one's getting court martialed, you know." With that, she casually plopped down on Dean's bed and tucked one bare foot underneath her knee. Colin smiled too and joined his wife. Dean felt Sam loosen up a little beside him.

"What's up?," Sam asked.

"Well, I know that Fiona already spilled the beans, but Sharron and I wanted to make it official. If you decide that you want to be a full-time Dad to Johnny, Sam - well we'd like you to know that you have a home with us. You could stay in the little house where you'd have some privacy for as long as you wanted." The couple across from them exuded nothing but warmth and friendliness, but a chill passed through Dean anyway.

"And of course you're welcome too Dean. Anytime," Sharron leaned forward and tapped Dean's knee to emphasize her point. It meant a lot that they included him. In any other circumstance it would be amazing. But right now, he tried to shake off a sense of foreboding even as he kept his face carefully neutral.

"Uh, thank you so much. It's uh...really, really kind of you," Sam began, stammering a little. Dean realized that the idiot was going to turn them down. Colin frowned as Sam sputtered so he jumped in before his brother could decline their amazing offer.

"I'll say. That's very generous of you and it will be nice for Sam to have a home base here where he can be close to Johnny. I look forward to swinging by to visit once he's settled in." Dean ignored the sharp look Sam shot his way. Colin laughed in relief and slapped his thighs as he stood, beaming at them both.

"Whew. Well, I'm glad we got that out of the way. Now if you'll excuse us, it's time to start getting dinner organized. We're gonna barbeque an extravaganza of meat tonight!" Sharron rolled her eyes at her husband's enthusiasm, but joined him as they moved towards the door.

"Dean really knows his way around a grill if you need a hand," Sam offered, surprising Dean. His brother was likely pissed that Dean had accepted on his behalf, especially after Sam's pronouncement from this afternoon about being a part time parent.

"Sure, the more the merrier. We could definitely use the help." Sharron paused as if waiting for Dean to follow, but he needed a moment to talk to his brother.

"Just give me a few minutes, okay?" He asked. Sharron nodded and they left, closing the door again behind them.

"What the hell was that Dean?" Sam exclaimed, jumping up to pace between the beds once their footsteps moved down the hall. "So, I'm supposed to just retire, move here and join the PTA. I let the Darkness out, and I've got a responsibility to fix what I've done. And I told you, I'm not gonna leave you behind." Sam waved his arms as he always did when he got frustrated and excited. Dean sighed. He had to make his brother see what was so obvious to Dean. He sat on the edge of his bed.

"I know that's what you said. But you have a responsibility to your son." Dean was calm and unyielding on this. Sam sputtered to a halt and opened his mouth to counter, but Dean held up a hand. "Hey, you and I - we both know what it's like to have a father who was never around." Sam looked slightly shocked and sank onto the mattress across from him, their knees almost touching.

"What? It's not like Dad ever really put us first." Dean stated softly. At one time he'd idolized the man, but after losing Bobby, he realized just how flawed Dad was as a father. He loved the man, but he had been far from reliable. Sam never did respond well to being ordered around, so he continued more quietly.

"You know Jonathan deserves a full-time Dad, Sam. Not one that will drop in every once in a while between cases like Dad did to Adam." A stricken look passed over Sam's face at the mention of their half-brother. Adam was a topic that both of them avoided, but Dean would use anything in his arsenal to convince Sam. His brother would always regret it if he left his son.

"Look, Johnny deserves to have you around all the time. And you Sammy, you deserve another crack at a normal life." His brother shook his head to deny it, but Dean knew the kid better than he knew himself. He knew Sam was listening despite himself.

"The way I see it, the best way you can make things right Sam, is to be here. Stay. Find a job. Make a life. Have a family," Dean pleaded softly with all his powers of persuasion. Sam looked up at him, tears welling in those damn puppy dog eyes.

"You, Dean. You are my family." Sam's earnest words and the emotion in his face, consoled the deepest part of Dean. Being with the people he loved was really all he'd ever longed for in life, so knowing that Sam felt that way about him filled Dean with an inexpressible joy. But that tenderness also gave him the courage to stand firm.

"I'll always be your family, Sammy." Dean let some of what he was feeling show on his face even as he forced his voice to remain steady. "Nothing's ever gonna change that."

"Then you should stay too," Sam said, his words were thick with suppressed emotion. "I don't know if I can do this alone." He instantly reminded Dean of the Sam as a little boy who used to want his big brother's approval so much. It was gratifying, but Sam was wickedly smart, eminently capable and amazingly good.

"Yeah you can," Dean affirmed with absolute confidence. He was so proud of the man his baby brother had become.

"Maybe I don't want to," Sam mumbled softly. Dean had to smile sadly, remembering back all those years ago in Palo Alto when he'd said those same words. That was a lifetime or two ago. Sam is so much stronger than Dean had been back then, stronger than Dean could ever hope to be. He stood and put a hand on the back of Sam's neck, urging the kid to meet his eyes and see the truth.

"You've got this Sammy, okay? You've got this." After a long moment, Sam sniffed and nodded. With a quick squeeze, Dean let his hand drop and then sat to pull on his boots, giving his brother a moment to wipe his eyes. Talking to his laces, Dean pushed aside the feelings of pain and loss that threatened to sweep over him. This was what was best for Sam.

"Monday morning, I'll head back to the bunker. I'll pack up your stuff and uh, Cas or I will bring it by in a couple of days, okay?" Dean risked a glance at his brother who had that desperate look he got when he was searching for solutions to an impossible situation. Damn, the kid was stubborn, but he knew that Sam staying here was the right thing to do. There was no better solution and Dean wasn't going to change his mind. It was only a matter of time before his brother came to that conclusion himself.

"Okay, but I'm going to figure something out, Dean," Sam said in a small voice that sounded far less confident than it had this afternoon. Dean sighed again. Sam was wrong, there was nothing to figure out. Sam was never going to be a full time part of his life again. His chest tightened at that thought and he felt tears sting his eyes. He had to get out of here before he made a fool of himself.

"I'll see you downstairs," he said quietly. Resolutely turning his back on Sam, he quickly slipped out of the room, leaving the kid slumped on the bed, head in his hands.

xxxxxxx

It had been a nice night. Despite the emotion of earlier and the looming separation from Dean, Sam had managed to enjoy himself. He'd helped his brother flip some burgers, eaten way too many smores and had laughed as Declan handed out tacky plastic medals to the winning teams. Everyone was comfortable and happy to linger around the campfire. Dean was talking music with Dennis and Alan, Carlos was strumming a guitar, and some of the ladies were chatting quietly about a popular TV show Sam had never watched. The kids were hyped up on marshmallows and the adults were content to let them stay up late as the peacefulness of the evening crept over everyone.

The setting sun cast a golden glow over the assembled family as Sam studied these people. For once in his life, he felt included, accepted. It was strange and so different from how he had felt yesterday, but good. He could imagine being a part of these people's lives. Sure he'd still have to hide aspects of himself from them for their own protection. But suddenly that didn't seem so difficult or wrong. Certainly no worse than the way Colin shielded them from his war time experiences or how Brian didn't share the ugliest parts of his job. No one could ever replace Dean, but the idea of being part of something beyond just the two of them and Cas was growing in appeal.

Most of the youngest MacCallums were running around the yard trying to capture some early fireflies. Jacob had handed out some plastic jars, carefully supervising to admire the catches and make sure the luminous beetles didn't get squashed by little hands. Jonathan had begged to stay up late and Fiona had grudgingly let him. But now the little guy was tugging on Sam's shirt.

"What's going on, Johnny?" he asked, trying not to smile as the little guy rubbed his eyes, and yawned so broadly that Sam was afraid he would swallow one of the glow-bugs. It was adorable.

"Up please," the boy asked, even as he scrambled, with a little help, into Sam's lap. Holding his son was still new, but felt like the best thing in the world. Jonathan's hair tickled his chin as his son snuggled against him, one small hand curled against Sam's chest while the other clutched his shirt. Johnny resisted sleep, struggling to keep his eyes open. Gently Sam stroked the boy's hair, giving himself over to the surge of love, awe and protectiveness that threatened to make him cry. He would have gladly sat there all night just to experience more of this feeling, but much too soon, Fiona was tapping his knee.

"Sam?," she whispered. "I think he'd done for the night." Johnny grumbled and turned to pout at his mother.

"I'm not tired," he complained, even as the child couldn't keep his eyes open. Sam resisted the urge to hold the boy tighter.

"Yeah, you are," Fiona chuckled and held out her hand. "C'mon Bug, let's get you to bed." Johnny climbed out of Sam's lap, clumsy with sleep. "Say goodnight to everyone," Fiona instructed the little guy.

"'Night," Johnny mumbled at the assembled family. His aunts and uncles wished him a good night and the little guy headed towards the barn under the watchful eye of his mother. But before they got very far, Jonathan turned and jogged back to Sam, throwing himself back onto his lap in a hug.

"Goodnight, Daddy. I love you," Johnny said. The words hit Sam's heart like a sledgehammer. It was the first time his son had called him that and the word rang in his ears leaving him unable to speak. Maureen gave Sam an understanding and warm smile as scooped up the sleepy child, swinging him up onto her hip.

"Goodnight, Sam. C'mon Johnny, time to go." Maureen jiggled the child as she followed Fiona to the barn.

It felt like time had slowed down, the universe had shifted and Sam's heart had cracked open. It was hard to believe that everyone around him hadn't heard it break open and reform. Surely there should be some outside sign of such a cosmic shift in his world. He was Jonathan's father. His brain understood that, but his heart had been slower to comprehend, just catching up right now. Suddenly Jonathan was his, as much a part of him as his arms or legs, and just as impossible to leave behind. Sam felt Dean's eyes on him, but when he looked over his brother seemed to be deep in conversation with Alan. What was he going to tell Dean? His thoughts were swirling and he had a lot to think about.

xxxxxxx

Even from a distance Dean had seen Johnny fighting sleep. He looked so much like little Sammy - always "not tired" and eager for just one more story even when he could barely hold his head up with exhaustion. Then his nephew had crawled into Sam's lap. After a lifetime spent with Sam, Dean had seen nearly every expression cross his brother's face. Too often, especially the last few years it had been sorrow or anger or despair. So it was nice to see Sammy happy, a softness in his look that Dean hadn't seen for a very long time.

He continued to watch surreptitiously as Sam cuddled his son, only half listening to the story Alan was telling. And then he saw it. Right then, in the moment that Johnny ran back to hug his father, Dean saw it. He didn't even know what he had been looking for until the micro expression passed across Sam's face. Sammy had decided. He was going to stay after all. Build a life with his son and the extended MacCallum family. Dean knew it. Knew it to his very bones, as certainly as he knew his own name. Sam was going to stay, and Dean would be alone. His breath caught painfully in his chest and he was surprised at how much it hurt.

Long practice of hiding his feelings kept his smile in place as the conversation continued around him. He'd thought he was prepared, thought that he'd already come to terms with Sam staying. Hell, he'd been pushing the kid in this direction all day. A family, a white picket fence, and an apple pie kind of life was everything Sam deserved. Really it was everything Dean wanted for his brother - Sam, safe and happy with a long and peaceful future. Ultimately Dean should be over the moon for his brother. But now that every shred of doubt was gone, he wasn't, he felt like his heart was being ripped out of him.

Deep down, where no one would ever know, Dean had let himself believe that he and Sam could retire someday, get a place by the water, spread their toes in the sand and let go of all the stress, and pain and horror of their lives. He had imagined growing old with Sam, finally getting a chance to just be brothers without the weight of the world bearing down on them all the time. It was a warm and fuzzy fantasy, and an unexpected wave of sorrow washed over him as he acknowledged that it was never going to happen now. Turning away to blink away the tears that suddenly sprung to his eyes, he gave himself a moment to grieve for the future he was never going to get.

When he had himself under control again, he took a deep calming breath and mentally gave himself a shake. He'd never really denied his brother anything, and he wasn't going to start now. This was good, actually. Now Sam was 100% on board with staying. And all Dean had to do now was figure out how to say goodbye.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So dear readers, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that in today's chapter we get to hear (albeit briefly) from another beloved member of TFW. The bad news is that with this chapter, I will have posted everything I have completed so far. Now, I have a very clear picture of where I am going with this story and I will never abandon it, but I'm a fairly slow writer, so I will beg for your patience. I have 4 or 5 more chapters planned and I will do my best to get a chapter written in time to post each week, so please bear with me.

"Tell me again why we have to wear these?," Dean whined, poking at the t-shirt on his bed.

"Because Fiona asked us to. Apparently it's some kind of tradition - some photo thing they do every year." Sam placed his own shirt aside neatly since they weren't needed until this afternoon. Dean gave him a sour look as he dug through his duffle for some clean socks. He'd gone to bed early last night, pleading a headache from the wood smoke. Which was a total lie. Dean had been burning bones, among other things, for decades. A little smoke didn't faze a hunter. But, before he could go check on Dean last night, Sam had gotten drawn into a long conversation with April who had also attended Stanford and wanted to compare notes about it. Then Fiona had pulled him aside and given him the shirts with instructions to wear them this afternoon. By the time he was able to say good night and come up to bed, his brother was asleep. Or at least faking it in such a way that Sam knew better than to try and get him to talk.

"Great, just what I need; photo evidence of looking like a dork." Although Dean was always a bit grouchy until he'd had coffee, this was something different. He would pretend to bitch and complain so that he could hide how insecure he was feeling. Normally Sam found it best to ignore it and let his brother get it out of his system, so he just shrugged at Dean this morning. He didn't want the last day before his brother left to be spent sniping at each other. Besides, Sam wanted a few minutes to himself, so he took his time getting dressed and packing up his shaving kit, watching Dean wander around the small room, getting more and more impatient. Right on schedule, Dean huffed in irritation.

"Jesus, Sam. Get the lead out! I'm dying for some coffee here."

"So go already. I'm sure there's a pot ready in the kitchen. I'll be down in a few minutes." Sam said leisurely as he pulled on his socks.

"Fine, but I'm not saving you any," Dean threatened with a pout as he stamped out of the room. Sam shook his head with affection. Hopefully Dean would feel better after a shot of caffeine. He waited until he heard the creak of his brother's footsteps going down stairs, then pulled out his phone and dialed Cas. The call connected on the second ring.

"Hello Sam," the angel answered with his usual deep rumble.

"Hey Cas, how are you feeling?" Sam regretted that he had kind of ignored their friend in the midst of everything that had been going on.

"I'm functioning adequately. Is there something you need?" When Sam didn't answer right away, he continued. "Is there something wrong? Are you okay?" Cas sounded truly concerned so Sam was quick to reassure him.

"No, no. We're fine - we're good." Now that he had the angel on the phone, Sam wasn't sure what to say. There was a long pause as he struggled to find the words. How do you say goodbye to someone who's a part of your family? Cas had been through so much with them; this was harder than Sam expected.

"Sam? Is everything alright with your son?" Great, now he was really making Cas worry. At the same time, thinking about Jonathan put a smile on Sam's face and loosened his tongue.

"Actually Cas, he's amazing. He's such a good kid, funny, smart and kind. Dean says he looks like I did at that age." Sam knew he was gushing a bit, but his friend seemed content to just listen now that he knew they were safe.

"Well, you are his father, are you not?" Cas was matter-of-fact like always, but his usual rumble had softened somewhat and Sam found himself unexpectedly cracking open and spilling his thoughts.

"That's the thing. Last night, he um, he called me Daddy." Just thinking about it made Sam flush and his heart pound like it was about to burst. "All this time, I had a son and I didn't even know it. I've missed so much of his life so far, but now I'm here and I've gotten to know him a bit. He's remarkable, Cas. And it's crazy! When I'm around him, I'm excited and sad, terrified and happy all at the same time." The feeling was so much bigger than words could describe.

"I expect it's overwhelming to find yourself as a parent so unexpectedly." Cas' words made sense, but there was more to it. He could feel Cas waiting for him to continue, infinitely patient as he so often was with tangled human emotions.

"It's just...I just don't want to be like my Dad, I want to be a part of Jonathan's life and keep him safe. But I can't do that and still be a hunter." He trailed off. Damn, this was harder than he thought.

"So what what are you saying, Sam?" Even though there was no judgement in his words, Sam couldn't stop another wave of guilt from washing over him. God, he was making a mess of this. Sam dragged a hand down his face and forced himself to take and release a deep breath.

"I guess it means that… that, I'm going to stay here and try to be Johnny's father full time. It mean's I'm calling to say goodbye." The pronouncement hung heavy in the air. A million little memories of Castiel rushed to the forefront of his mind. His terrible sense of humour, his love of bees, the sweet, fumbling attempts at friendship, times they had fought side by side, and how Cas had saved him from agony and certain death more than once. Cas was like a brother, and he owed his friend so much, - more than he could ever possibly repay - and now he was leaving him behind.

"I'm sorry, I uh, I know that there's a lot going on. Releasing the Darkness is my fault, and Rowena's in the wind, and we haven't found Metatron yet and you...you're not at 100% and..." Cas gently cut off Sam's rambling.

"Sam. There is no need to apologize. You should be there for your son. I'm happy for you." Tears of gratitude sprung to his eyes at Cas' affirmation and he had to clear the lump that clogged his throat before continuing.

"Thanks Cas. Look, uh Dean's been really supportive about this, but with me tapping out he's gonna…he's…" Words escaped him again. "I just...I just need you to look out for him, okay?" He was very close to begging. The idea that he had rescued his brother from the Mark of Cain only to abandon him was agonizing. It was Dean's worst fear and Sam didn't want him to be alone. He needed Dean to be okay.

"Of course, Sam." The solid rumble of Castiel's voice was comforting, but bittersweet. If Dean had killed Cas, Sam didn't think there would have been anything left of his brother to save. He'd come so close to losing both of then to the Mark of Cain.

"And, and look out for yourself too, Cas," he said, his voice choked with a suppressed sob and he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He smeared it away with the back of his hand and cleared this throat again.

"I will." Cas was the best friend he and Dean had ever had, but Sam knew that if he didn't get off the phone now, he was going to break down completely and embarrass them both. He puffed out a rough breath and tried to make his voice steady.

"Okay, well I gotta go. Thank you for everything. Goodbye, Cas." He heard the angel's farewell before he disconnected the call. Sinking down on the bed, he dashed the moisture from his eyes with his fingertips. His heart was heavy and part of him wanted to crawl back under the covers and avoid the world like a little kid. Of course if he did, Dean would come looking for him and Sam didn't want to worry his brother. Instead, he sat for a few moments and let a few tears fall, before he wiped his eyes, pulled himself together, and made his way downstairs.

xxxxxxx

Dean followed his nose, the smell of fresh coffee leading him straight to the kitchen and the siren call of caffeine. It was pretty early, but he found he wasn't alone in the comfortable room. Colin was sitting at the table reading, his own cup of joe nearby. Fiona was putting a plate in front of Jonathan who was sitting across from his uncle. Sebastian was precariously propped up next to Johnny's juice glass and the little guy was deep in discussion with his elephant friend as he nibbled some toast.

Aunt Kathy was puttering at the counter behind the large island, hands busy with one of the many jobs that was keeping the large family fed. She gave him a smile, but it was Fiona who slid a mug in front of him as he leaned over, elbows on the island worktop.

"Feeling better this morning?" she asked as she filled his cup from the coffee pot. Dean blanked for a second before remembering his excuse from last night.

"Oh, uh yeah. Thanks." He didn't want to be rude, but he couldn't be expected to string together full sentences before he had caffeine in his system. She silently offered him some sugar or cream, but he shook his head and took his first hot, restorative sip. Thankfully she left him to his coffee, joining Aunt Kathy at work. Idly he watched as she chopped up something, her knife rhythmically thudding against the wooden cutting board.

He hadn't heard anyone enter the room, but his finely honed senses felt someone close behind him. Spinning, he moved out of the way before Sharron was able to abort her movement. Her hand slapped air where his ass had been moments before and she had the audacity to grin at him.

"Nice jeans, Dean," she smirked and waggled her eyebrows, so over the top that he had to blurt out a laugh.

"Sharron!" Colin scolded his wife, although there was no real heat in his tone. In fact he seemed to take it in stride.

"Sorry Dean, she's completely incorrigible," Colin complained mildly. Dean lifted his mug in acknowledgement, amused rather than offended. Sharron in some ways reminded him of Sheriff Donna Hanscum. She shared the same irreverent sense of humour, and positive energy as the blonde officer. Of course Sharron was a lot more handsy, but it was offset with a loving personality that shone through in everything she did for her husband and the extended family.

"You'd think she doesn't love me anymore," Colin whined with an expression of mock hurt. Sharron bent over and gave him a long and thorough kiss, caressing her husband's shoulder with affection.

"Hey, you know I love and adore you, Honey" she said as she broke away and sashayed out of his reach. "But just because I'm on a diet, doesn't mean I can't look at the menu!" Sharron's good-natured laughter chimed through the air, contagious as she went behind the island to fill her own mug. Dean could only join in with her, secretly gratified by the attention, and pleased that he was included in what was obviously routine family banter. Fiona who by this time had moved away from the counter rolled her eyes at her sister in law.

"Try to ignore her Dean, I swear the rest of us know how to behave." He gave her a smile and realized that, despite his anxiety about leaving Sam, his bad mood had evaporated. Fiona wiped Johnny's face as she spoke and took his plate to the sink.

Just then Sam walked into the room and Dean's big brother radar pinged. It was subtle, but Sammy looked like he'd been crying, his smile was a little too fixed and the "good morning" he offered the room was a touch too hearty to be genuine. Of course what really gave it away was that his brother purposely avoided looking his way. It was classic Sam - upset but determined to hide it. Sammy would kill him if he asked what was bothering him in front of everyone, so Dean held his tongue. He could bide his time and would find out later in private what had ruffled his brother so badly in the 15 minutes they'd been apart.

Slowly more of the family straggled into the kitchen looking for coffee and company. With so many people now in the room, the chatter grew and the noise started to make Dean itchy. So when Fiona took a tray of foil wrapped breakfast sandwiches out of the oven and passed them around, Dean took one and escaped out onto the porch to eat. He was halfway through his bacon, egg and cheese sandwich when Sam sat down beside him.

"I brought you another coffee," Sam said as he set a mug down on the top step. Dean ignored the kind gesture for now and simply looked expectantly at his brother. It only took a minute before Sammy glanced away. "I'm fine Dean," he said before taking a bite of his own breakfast.

"Uh, huh." Dean scoffed, refusing to be deterred until Sam once again met his eyes briefly. The kid tilted his head so that his hair covered his expression, but Sam picked at the wrapping on his sandwich for a moment before sighing softly.

"I called Cas, okay?" Of course it was okay, but Dean was still puzzled as to why Sammy had been crying. "I let him know that I was staying and I...I told him goodbye." Sam's voice cracked softly on that last part. Ah, that explained it. He'd been so consumed with his own upcoming loss, Dean had almost forgot about their friend. But Sam obviously hadn't. All last year, Cas had been the only real ally that Sam had had, and thank goodness that the angel had been there. He shied away from a certain memory that sprang to mind. His shame and guilt were not going to tarnish today. Figuring it was time to cut Sam a break, Dean took a loud, annoying slurp from his mug. Beside him Sam rolled his eyes as he always did when Dean teased him, and relaxed enough to begin to make progress on his own breakfast. They sat and chewed amiably, and Dean was glad that his last day with his brother wasn't going to be full of tension.


	23. Chapter 23

By the time they'd finished breakfast, a few more people had joined them on the porch to enjoy the morning, or a second cup of coffee. Declan perched on the steps on the other side of Sam. He gave them a friendly smile, but didn't try to engage them in conversation. Out of all of Fiona's brothers, Declan was the most even-tempered and quiet. The three men sat in companionable silence until they were interrupted by Kate. She had a piece of paper in hand and seemed rather flustered. Stopping in front of where they were sitting, she consulted her document.

"So, Declan, you're going with Sharron. And Sam and Dean - you guys are with Fiona. We'll be leaving in about 25 minutes." And with that odd announcement, she hurried over to where another group of people were standing. Declan got to his feet and brushed off his pants. Sam reached out to catch his attention.

"Wait, where are we going?" That was Dean's question too, so he waited eagerly for the answer.

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't know. Our grandfather on our mother's side was a pastor. Every year the whole family goes over to his old church on Boundary Road for a service." Declan was matter of fact, but then must have caught something in Dean's expression. "Uh, it's completely optional. You don't have to go if you don't want to." He grabbed his empty mug and with a nervous nod, fled into the kitchen.

"That sounds nice," said Sam, but Dean was in no mood to sit in a hot stuffy church and pretend to pray.

"Uh-uh. You might be into that kind of thing, but I'm gonna take a hard pass." He leaned in closer to Sam to keep his voice from carrying. "You know I'm not a big fan of the god squad."

"Yeah, I know." Dean had expected an argument, or for Sam to try and convince him, but Sam didn't speak. Instead he just stared out over the lawn where the sun was burning the dew off of the grass. "I think I'll go. It will give me a chance to talk to Fiona." He shot an apprehensive glance at Dean. "You'll be here when we get back?" The question was casual, but Dean knew that Sam was worried that he might take the opportunity to sneak off and avoid what was going to be a painful goodbye tomorrow. He'd be lying if he said that the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but he knew how much that would hurt his brother and he wouldn't do that to Sam.

"I'll be here." Dean tried to put as much reassurance into his words as possible and Sam broke into one of his shy grins. He clapped Dean on the back as he climbed to his feet and made his way back into the house. Dragging his hands across his hair Dean hung his head, hands clasped behind his neck. Despite his promise, he was restless. He needed to get back behind the wheel, where he did his best thinking.

A little while later Dean watched from the porch as people climbed into cars or boarded the school bus that Kate apparently had arranged to bring the majority of the family. He waved as one by one the cars and then the bus pulled away. Colin and Declan were already in Sharron's jeep and Ethan kissed Jacob before joining them. Jacob retreated to the porch, hands shoved deep into his pockets and a hard look on his face. Finally Sharron appeared at Dean's elbow.

"You're sure you don't want to come?" she asked, for once dropping the teasing tone. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good," he said with a smile and followed her to her car. She squeezed his arm in farewell and then got in. He closed the driver's door with a thump and then stood back to join Jacob as they watched her maneuver down the tree-lined drive.

After spending the past few days with the MacCallum family, the quiet was suddenly both welcome and a bit oppressive. He had become accustomed to the laughter, the constant chatter, the shrill voices of happy children. At the same time, he could feel some of the stress leave his body. Usually it was just him and Sam, with Cas popping in and out of their lives. Dean had been on his best behaviour for almost a week now and he needed to relax. He cleared his throat.

"Wanna go for a drive?," he asked Jacob. There was still a tightness around the younger man's mouth, but Jacob nodded, so Dean clapped him on the shoulder and dug Baby's keys out of his pocket.

The Impala purred as he guided her down the open road. The sun was warm on his arm through the window, Zeppelin was on the stereo and Dean felt like himself for the first time in days. The only thing that was off was that, when he turned his head, Jacob was in the passenger seat instead of Sam. The younger man was wearing a purple t-shirt with a print of one of those paw-waving cats you see in Chinese restaurants, but although the cat on his chest was cheerful, Jacob definitely was not. The kid was frowning out the window and it was really sucking the joy out Dean's morning. He reached over and turned the music down.

"So, what's bugging you?" he asked, although he knew he was probably going to regret it. Jacob sighed and shrugged.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Dean had to chuckle silently. How often had Sam said those exact same words from that exact same spot? He had a lot of experience with Sam's moodiness, and even if Jacob wasn't his responsibility, he couldn't let the guy be so miserable. He waited until a few more miles flew by before trying another tactic.

"So, did you and Ethan have a fight?" At that, Jacob looked puzzled. Obviously it wasn't relationship trouble which was a huge relief.

"No. Why would you ask?"

"Well you're here with me instead of getting all holy with your boyfriend, and you look pissed off about something," Dean said glancing over. He'd coaxed a small smile out of Jacob who looked more like his normally good-natured self, but the smile faded quickly as Jacob sighed, then explained.

"It's the church part that's the problem," he declared, the scowl deepening, drawing his eyebrows together.

"Ah, not much of a church goer, huh?" Dean was okay with that. More than once he'd seen the horrible things supposed people of faith did to one another. And other than Cas, most of the angels he'd met had been complete dicks. Church was a good source of holy water, and not much else.

"I used to be." Jacob's voice was soft, but angry. "When I was a kid, my family was very religious; church three times a week, Bible study every Thursday, prayers before every meal and at bedtime." He stopped talking for a moment to stare out the window at the sunshiny morning. "Then my parents found out I was gay and a few weeks before I turned 17, they dumped me off at a camp that was supposed to turn me straight." The pain and bitterness in his voice spoke to the depth of his hurt.

"Damn. I'm sorry Jacob." He meant it. Dean had read about some of the abuse that those sorts of places called "therapy." No kid should be made ashamed for being who they are, much less get signed up for torture by their parents. Jacob gave him a long look, but finally offered a shrug.

"Thanks, it was a long time ago. Besides, if I hadn't run away from the camp, I'd never have met Ethan." Now that was a statement just begging to be asked about.

"Okay, I'll bite. How did you meet Ethan?" It seemed like talking about his boyfriend was helping to lift Jacob's mood, so Dean would play along.

"Well I was in the camp for about a month before I finally got the chance to run away during a wilderness hike. I spent the next few days hiding and wandering around. Eventually one night, I found a farm, and snuck into the barn to try and find something to eat. I was so tired I fell asleep and the next morning, the farmer found me and called the sheriff's office. Luckily, the farmer was Mrs. Jennings and the officer who responded to the call turned out to be Brian." If the kid looked a little smug, he'd earned it. That was quite the story. Dean noticed how Jacob had glossed over a month of torment and then living on the run, starving and afraid for days. The estimation of his passenger grew. Jacob had been through a lot.

"Since I was still gay, my parents didn't want me back." Jacob paused and a wistful sadness briefly slid across his face. Dean clenched the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Parents who reject their children deserve a serious beat down. Jacob cleared his throat to continue.

"Anyway, I didn't have anywhere to go, so Mrs. Jennings let me stay with her. I saw Ethan around school, but he was a senior, and headed off to University. It wasn't until he came back after graduating that we connected." Jacob glanced down at his hands. "Ethan's not a go-to-church-every-Sunday kind of guy, but he still believes. It's just that I don't - not anymore." There was a fierce look on Jacob's face, but overall he seemed less upset than he had been. Dean found that sometimes, people just wanted an opportunity to tell their story and be heard. He was glad he could be a bit of a sounding board for the kid.

"So that explains why you're not on the pro-God bus." Dean reached over and loosely shoved Jacob's shoulder. The friendly gesture seemed to settle him and Jacob finally relaxed back into the seat.

"What about you? Don't you believe in God?" Normally Dean would have brushed off the question and changed the subject, but something about Jacob's story had him wanting to answer truthfully. He'd lost his faith as a child. Who could believe in a heavenly father who stole his mother from him and turned his Dad into someone cold and distant? Then, when Castiel saved him from Hell, he'd had to accept that if angels existed, then God did too. But it didn't change his opinion of the guy.

"I do. I think he exists, I just don't think he gives a damn about us." Over his life, he'd seen too many horrific things happen, things that happened to good people, things that God didn't lift a finger to stop. Jacob pondered what he'd said for a minute and Dean kicked himself for bringing down his mood again.

"So, what do you believe in?" the younger man asked. A few years ago Dean would have said that he believed in himself and the gun in his hand. But after everything with the Mark of Cain and how far he'd gone down the path to darkness, Dean barely trusted himself, much less had faith in himself. If it wasn't for Sam fighting to save him, he wouldn't be here. Time and time again when Dean had lost all hope in anything good or decent, Sam had found a way to bring him back. So the answer to Jacob's question was easy.

"I believe in my brother." The words rang true and it suddenly hit Dean how hard it was going to be to leave Sam behind in the morning. He swallowed the thought down. Right now he just wanted to drive and forget what tomorrow would bring. He checked his watch. "Look, I figure we've got about half an hour before we need to head back, so let's roll!" With that he shot Jacob a grin that was only slightly forced, turned the music up and put the pedal down.

xxxxxxx

Fiona was a careful and safe driver. Nothing like Dean who drove flat out and free. Probably just as well with Jonathan in the back seat. Sam snuck a look at the boy in the rear-view mirror. The little guy was fully absorbed in some kind of video game. Before they'd left Johnny had negotiated the screen time like a pro, getting his mother to bend on everything except sound. Apparently Fiona had reached her limit with the electronic beeps and bloops, but Johnny looked both content and adorable wearing purple headphones. With their son occupied, it also provided a perfect opening to talk to Fiona.

"So, um, I wanted to talk to you." Sam saw her briefly glance back at Johnny before shooting him a questioning look.

"Sure, Sam." He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands across his jeans. All morning he'd been thinking about how to explain how he felt and he'd finally decided to stop agonizing over the wording and just do his best.

"Um, you know I was raised by my Dad. Well, our Dad loved us, but he was gone a lot when we were kids. We moved around frequently, and he left us alone in sketchy motels and broken down rentals. There was never enough money, and over the years, I attended more schools than I can count. I know that he did what he thought was best for us, but for a long time, I resented him, maybe even hated him a little." She turned her head to look at him, but he refused to meet her eyes and she had to put her attention back on the road. Fiona's Honda was a lot smaller than the Impala and Sam felt a little claustrophobic, but he pushed on. He had to get this off his chest.

"I understood that his work was important, but I felt so hurt. Not just for all the birthdays and Christmases he never made it to, but also for all the little things he missed in my life; the bedtime stories, the soccer games, and science fairs. I was beyond lucky that I had Dean, who did everything in his power to make up for it, but Dean was just a kid himself you know, and sometimes, even though I was mad at him, I just really wanted my Dad." Dean was the one who was always there for him, always putting Sam's needs before his own, and he was grateful beyond words for his brother. He loved Dean for sacrificing his own childhood so that Sam could have one, but Sam still had longed for Dad's affection, praise, and approval.

"As I got older I got increasingly angry with my father. At the time, I felt misunderstood and frustrated, so I blamed him for everything that was wrong in my life. I was defiant, rebellious and selfish. Typical teenager I guess." Those days seemed like a couple of lifetimes ago, and he had to smile regretfully as he remembered.

"Anyway, I don't want Jonathan to resent me someday. I want to see him grow up and be a part of his life for all the big moments and the little moments and everything in between. I never want him to feel unimportant or to wonder whether I love him." Fiona had tears in her eyes which she wiped away with a tissue she snagged one-handed from her purse. Sam was wrung out from talking, he wasn't used to expressing his feeling to anyone other than Dean, but he had one more point to make.

"Yesterday you asked me what part I was planning to play in Jonathan's life. Well, if it's okay with you, I want to be his father full-time. I'm going to make mistakes and I know I might not be the man you would have chosen, but I promise to do everything I can to make Johnny happy and to be worthy of being his Dad." His voice cracked at those last words. Sam had spoken from the heart in a way that he hadn't in a very long time. God knows he was still worried, but he would do right by his son or die trying.

"Oh Sam," said Fiona wetly. She sniffed and wiped her nose on the tissue. "Of course! Johnny's going to be so happy to find out that you're staying."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers for your patience. I'm a slow writer, but I didn't intend to take 2 weeks to post this chapter. Special thanks to Shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for the kind reviews. (Please let me know if you find any typos, I rushed my editing a bit to get this out tonight.)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the beginning of the end of this little story. It's a little bit short, but things are about to accelerate towards the end of this story. Only 3 or 4 chapters to go. Special thanks to shadowhauntingdauntlessdemigod for the kind review.

When Fiona pulled her car up the drive to the house, the first thing Sam did was scan the jumble of parked cars for the shiny blackness of the Impala. Dean had promised that he wouldn't leave, but Sam hadn't been 100% certain that his brother wouldn't sneak away in some misguided attempt to spare him a painful goodbye. So, when he saw the car and Dean walked out onto the porch to greet everyone, Sam smothered a sigh of relief.

He was glad to see Dean, but he really didn't get a chance to speak to him until after lunch when they were back in their room changing into the T-shirts Fiona had provided.

"Why can't we have black or grey or some less weird color?" Dean whined after he pulled the shirt over his head. It fit him well and despite his complaint Sam thought the blue looked good on him.

"First off, it's not weird, it's royal blue. And secondly, Jonathan picked it. Apparently it's the same blue as Superman's costume, and Superman is his favorite superhero." Sam had heard all about this on the way home from church.

"Batman is way cooler than Superman," muttered Dean under his breath, but other than that, he stopped his grumbling. Sam pulled on his own t-shirt pleased that it was long enough.

"So what did you do while we were gone," he asked Dean who was shoving the shirt he'd taken off into his bag.

"Jacob and I just took a drive." He paused and looked thoughtful. "That kid has been through a lot, you know." No, Sam didn't know but he wondered at what Jacob could have told Dean to put that fierce look on his brother's face. Zipping up his bag, Dean slapped Sam lightly on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's get this show on the road."

Sam trailed Dean back to the kitchen where April, Maureen and Peggy were helping Aunt Kathy put away the remnants of lunch. Dean snagged a chocolate chip cookie from the tray Maureen was wrapping in cling wrap. She laughed at his mischievous look and handed him a napkin.

"Here, don't get chocolate on your shirt before the photos." Maureen was dressed in a hot pink T-shirt, April had on light purple and Peggy was in a bright green tee that actually went well with her red hair. Aiden ushered his daughters into the kitchen. They were all in hot pink like Maureen. Dean's mouth was full of cookie, so Sam asked the question he could read on his brother's face.

"Uh, so what's with all the different colors?," Sam asked. Aiden caressed Irene's silky head with one hand as she leaned against him. He gave his wife a quick kiss before putting down the case of soft drinks he'd carried in and started loading them into the fridge.

"It was our mother's idea. When the twins were little, they looked almost identical, so she used to make a point of not dressing them alike. When they got older, after Declan was born, Brian and Colin used to argue over which color they got, so she decided that everyone got a different color for family photos." Aiden shrugged and broke down the packaging for recycling. Colin strolled in and propped a hip against the counter.

"What are we talking about?" he asked his older brother.

"The shirts," Aiden replied, plucking gently at his.

"Oh, yeah Mom's thing. I think she saw it in a shampoo ad. One time she told me that she did it because she wanted us each to be an individual. Anyway, we've continued the tradition as the family has grown. Now every time we get together, we take a picture of everybody. Each family gets to pick it's own color." Sam thought that was an unusual tradition, but who was he to judge. There were very few pictures of his family, and his mother hadn't been there to coordinate family photos and establish traditions. Suddenly it registered that by giving him a shirt, Fiona had claimed him and Dean as family. He faked a cough to cover the sudden sappy smile that threatened.

Sharron bustled into the room and began shooing her husband and Aiden towards the living room.

"C'mon you two. We're doing the original kids first." Sam left Dean flirting with Aunt Kathy for more cookies and followed them into the other room. Fiona, Ethan, Brian and Declan were chatting at the bottom of the staircase as a stranger with a camera around her neck adjusted her equipment. Declan ducked under an umbrella shaped reflector and joined Sam and the others.

"I see you weren't spared the indignity of our family craziness," he said with a laugh. Declan was dressed in a black t-shirt similar to the kind that Dean usually wore.

"Did you get to pick?," Sam asked hoping that Dean wouldn't walk in and begin complaining again.

"One of the advantages of being single. I can wear whatever color I want. Usually people let their kids pick." He smirked and nudged Sam with his elbow. "Aren't you glad you didn't get Aiden's Barbie pink?" Sam shrugged. Not that Dean wouldn't call him "Samantha" for a month if he wore such a feminine color, but Aiden seemed happy enough, especially when his youngest daughter tugged on his pant leg and told him he looked "Bootiful Daddy!"

The photographer stopped her fussing and motioned them over. Sam stayed behind to watch as the MacCallums arranged themselves in age order on the stairs, one on each step. You could tell that they had been doing this for years. Aiden was at the top, then Brian, Colin, Declan, Ethan and finally at the bottom, Fiona. Lined up like that you could see both the family resemblance and the close bond the siblings shared. Brian in particular looked like a different person, laughing and teasing his twin brother, relaxed in a way Sam was surprised the Sheriff ever allowed himself to be. Dean appeared at Sam's elbow, cookie in hand.

"They look ridiculous," Dean said under his breath, standing close enough that only Sam could hear him. He just shrugged, it didn't look like that to him. It looked normal and comfortable and safe.

xxxxxx

Dean was trying not to pace. They were waiting for the photographer and her assistant to set up some more equipment around a space by the front steps. Everyone was milling around in the early afternoon sunshine looking like a kaleidoscope that had smashed into a myriad of colorful pieces. Sam was nearby chatting with Carlos. It looked like a happy scene, but Dean couldn't feel it. A mental clock had begun to tick the moment he'd woken up this morning and realized that in 24 hours or so, he'd be saying goodbye to Sam. He'd been doing his best to keep occupied to help muffle the countdown in his head, so standing around was making him antsy.

Jonathan thundered down the steps and threw himself against Dean's knees.

"We're gonna have our picture taken, Uncle Dean!" The kid was practically bouncing with excitement, but Dean was momentarily dazed at the honorific. Of course he'd known he was the boy's uncle, but this was the first time he'd heard Jonathan say it and his heart gave a strange leap. Ruffling the child's soft hair he smiled down at Johnny who was practically vibrating, one hand clutching the leg of Dean's jeans, the other gripping Sebastian.

"Okay, you guys get to go first, since you're all here and ready to go," Sharron announced. Fiona motioned him and Sam over, so he pointed Johnny towards where his mother stood and tapped his brother on the shoulder.

"We're up. Let's get this over with."

Dean was uncomfortable standing there, sweat starting to make his stupid shirt cling to his back. He hated to be the center of attention, it went against every lesson his father had taught him about blending in and being as invisible as possible. Everyone was staring at him and he caught himself clenching his fists as the photographer gave instructions he couldn't hear over his thundering heart beat. Sam's arms were full of a squirming Jonathan, but he nudged Dean with his shoulder.

"Hey, calm down," he instructed in a whisper. Dean forced himself to take a deep breath. This was just a stupid picture, he'd certainly faced worse. He still felt stupid, why was he even in it in the first place? He wasn't really a part of this family - tomorrow he'd be gone. Fiona was in front of him and the photographer scurried over to push them all even closer.

"Fiona, step back a little and turn a bit to your right. Sam, turn Jonathan towards the centre more." Dean was two seconds from bolting in frustration when Fiona, whose back was practically pressed up against him tilted her head back and gave him a smile.

"I'm glad you're here, Dean," she said bumping softly against him. She stepped on his foot, trying to find someplace to stand and he put a hand on her elbow to keep her from falling.

"Just like that - perfect!" Finally the woman put the camera to her eye and started to shoot. "Big smiles everyone," she chirped cheerfully. Dean couldn't prevent the growl that rumbled through his chest hard enough for Fiona to feel. She started to giggle.

"Okay, everyone look at Jonathan." Dutifully doing what he was told, Dean turned slightly to his right. Sam was looking at the boy in his arms, and everything, the unnatural position, the sweat trickling down his back, his self-consciousness, all the little annoyances faded away as he saw the love in Sam's eyes as he stared at his son. Something inside him softened and he could only stand in awe, grateful that he had a chance to see his brother so happy.

"That's great - I've got it. Thank you!" The photographer's words broke the spell and the little group broke apart, moving out of the way for Kate, Alan and their kids to take their place. Now that he was free, he wanted a whiskey or three, but he settled for grabbing a bottle of water and wandered farther across the lawn to sit in the shade of a big tree.

Sam was lumbering around like a fool with Jonathan on his shoulders, pretending to be some sort of animal or something. The little guy was laughing, head thrown back, practically radiating joy. Even from here Dean could see how carefully Sam held his son's legs so that he didn't fall. Soon the other children were tugging on Sam's jeans wanting their own ride. It was strange to see his gigantor brother surrounded by small children, his grin flashing as he swung Chloe up onto his shoulders for her turn. Over the course of the past few days Dean had noticed that Sam smiled more easily, that he laughed more frequently. Something Sam hadn't done much of over the past few years. As he watched, he twisted off the cap and lifted the bottle in a silent toast before taking a swig of the cool water.

"You're going to be a great Dad, Sammy," he said to himself. The bitter ache that had settled deep in his chest was made slightly sweeter in seeing his brother so happy and carefree. Nothing was going to make leaving in the morning easier, but at least he'd have these memories to take with him.

Fiona headed his way and Dean carefully arranged his expression so that none of what he was feeling showed.

"Mind if I join you?," she asked even as she flopped down to the grass beside him. Since she was already here, he didn't bother to reply, just continued to watch his brother play with the kids as the various family groups got their photos taken. Fiona was silent, doing the same for a long time. Finally she spoke.

"So, Sam tells me that you're leaving in the morning." Her tone was conversational and friendly, putting Dean at ease despite the topic.

"Yeah, well I've got to get back to work. I've got some unfinished business." An image of Amara, as she had appeared to him in the billowing smoke, sprung into his mind. The strange pull he felt towards her had slowly been growing. This extended visit was like a vacation, but the Darkness was out there. It will be far more difficult without his brother by his side, but he needed to find a way to stop her.

"You know, Sam never told me exactly what you two do," Fiona stated, making eye contact and peering at him intently. Dean kept his face purposely casual. "Somehow I think "pest control" is a lot more dangerous than it sounds." Dean just shrugged, he certainly wasn't going to reveal anything. Realizing that no answer was forthcoming, she leaned back against the tree. "Well, regardless of what you do, I just want you to know that you're family now. You're always welcome. Anytime."

Her words warmed his heart, but he knew that once he left, he likely wouldn't ever be back. Oh sure, he might drop in occasionally, check on Sammy and make sure he was okay. But he was never going to show up for an extended visit, or come spend the holidays. It would be too hard to see what he knew he was never going to have. More importantly, he would never want to bring danger to their door. Dean had no illusions about himself. He was a killer with an ocean's worth of blood on his hands. He'd tried to settle down, live the civilian life and it had almost got Lisa and Ben killed - even when he wasn't with them anymore. There was no way he'd do anything to risk Sam's new life, much less his nephew and the kind woman beside him.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," he said. He didn't want to make promises he knew he wouldn't keep. She got to her knees, but before she stood, Fiona leaned in close and unexpectedly kissed his cheek.

"You're a good man, Dean Winchester," she stated, before getting to her feet and strolling back to where the photographer was trying to gather everyone for a group photo.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. This chapter is some more fluff to prepare you for the angst that I promise is coming next chapter. Thanks to shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for their review and support!

For the rest of the day, Dean stayed close to Sam. He couldn't help it. The mental countdown was getting too loud to ignore, especially as the MacCallum family started to disperse back to their regular lives. First to go was Kate, Alan and the kids. Alan had to be back in the office, so they left mid-afternoon once the big photo of everyone on the stairs was done. Everyone had waved as the rental car disappeared down the long lane, taking with it the easy, light feeling that had characterized the weekend. An hour or so later, Peggy and Glen left giving a lift to April and Zoe. Then Carlos and Alicia and their children headed out to catch their plane.

Despite the smaller numbers, dinner was fantastic. Aunt Kathy had really outdone herself with a melt in your mouth roast beef and perhaps the best sugar cream pie Dean had ever eaten. After the meal, the sweet matriarch of the family handed out leftovers and hugs as each small group loaded up to head home. Kathy had given both him and Sam a warm squeeze before Dennis had bundled his mother into his car, with calls of goodbye and well wishes all around. As he left, Murray had shaken Dean's hand with a companionable but pointed smile.

"Hope to see you at Thanksgiving, son."

Finally, only the local family was left sitting under the tent that was now much too large for the remaining group. The adults lingered outside, reluctant to let go of the weekend. Since he was the last child still present, Sharron had prepared one of the newly vacant rooms so that Fiona and Johnny could stay in the house instead of the barn. Jonathan wore himself out with a small meltdown over the move. The little guy only stopped crying when Sam promised to read him a bedtime story, but he was so overtired, he'd almost immediately fallen asleep in Sam's arms when picked up.

"Well it looks like he's tuckered himself out. If you don't mind carrying him Sam, I guess we'd better get him to bed," Fiona directed. Sam got to his feet, careful not to jostle the sleeping boy. "Goodnight everyone" she said as she led the way to the house. Dean resisted following his brother. Instead he helped Declan, Colin, Ethan and Jacob put the lawn back into order, folding up tables and chairs and carrying them to the storage shed.

As they stacked the last of the chairs, Declan tugged on Dean's arm, motioning him to stay back as the other three made their way to the main house. Dean waited expectantly until Declan had checked that his brothers were out of hearing range.

"What's up?" Dean asked, a little surprised that Declan had anything to say to him that he couldn't say in front of his family. Rather than answer right away, the younger man handed Dean a folded slip of paper.

"Here. It's my address. I live at the other edge of town, feel free to come by anytime. Don't feel like you need to call ahead or anything, I don't stand on formality. And, uh, I'm a teacher, so there's no one home during the day." Declan purposely met his eyes for a moment, then shoved his hands into his pockets nervously before speaking again.

"I just figured you might like a place to crash should you want to swing by Kempville and not have the whole family know about it. I love them, but sometimes it's nice to not have to deal with everybody." He shrugged. "It's up to you."

Dean would not have predicted this offer, but as he thought about it, he appreciated Declan's forethought. Even though he had no intention of crashing back into Sam's life, he knew himself. Just like when Sammy had been at Stanford, he'd find an excuse to surreptitiously check up on his brother, make sure he was okay and that there weren't any threats around. How Declan figured that out, he'd never know, but Dean was grateful. He tucked the slip of paper with the address deep into his pocket.

"Thanks, man," he said sincerely, clearing his throat to keep things casual.

"Hey!" a voice shouted from the house, catching their attention. Ethan leaning out the kitchen door.

"Colin recorded the Reds game from this afternoon if you wanna watch it." Declan gave his brother a wave and started to close up the doors to the shed.

"So Dean, do you want to have a beer and watch the game with us?" Declan's asked. Sam could be occupied with Jonathan for a while, so a drink or two and some time in front of the television actually sounded good. He needed a distraction from the loud tick tock in his brain that told him exactly how little time he had left with Sam.

"Sounds good," he said and followed Declan back into the house.

xxxxxxx

Sam carefully maneuvered the sleeping child in his arms up the stairs and followed Fiona into the room across from theirs that Aunt Kathy had been using. Sharron must have been busy because there was no sign that the older woman had been there and the queen sized bed was freshly made. On the dresser was a projector that cast a soft pattern of cows and moons across the walls and ceiling, providing just enough light to see. Fiona folded back the covers, but touched his arm to stop Sam from putting Jonathan into the bed.

"He's sticky to the elbows, let me wipe him down a bit," she whispered before disappearing back into the hall. She returned a moment later with a warm damp washcloth. Cradling Jonathan against his chest, Sam lowering himself to his knees, propping the child on the bed. He pulled off Johnny's shoes, while the boy leaned against him. Funny how both of the little sneakers fit into one of his hands. Fiona knelt beside him and gently eased Jonathan's shirt off over his head. The movement roused the little guy and he blinked sleepily at Sam.

"Daddy?" he mumbled as Fiona efficiently ran the damp cloth across his face and over his arms and hands. That title on his son's lips had emotion washing over Sam. He could never get tired of being called that.

"I'm right here," murmured Sam thickly. Brushing the soft curls back from Jonathan's face, the sleepy boy nuzzled into his palm, too tired to even open his eyes fully.

"Here," said Fiona, handing him a clean pajama top. Sam wiggled it over the tousled head and eased his son's arms into the sleeves. At the same time Fiona peeled off his fish-printed socks and tugged his jeans off. "He's okay like that for one night," she said in a hush, so Sam eased the child back onto the bed. Sliding out of the way, he let Fiona tug up the covers up around Johnny's shoulders. He was snoring softly, already asleep. Fiona leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Jonathan's forehead then stood, tucking the boy's dirty clothes into a nearby bag.

Sam lingered for a moment. The golden glow of artificial moonlight gave the room a cozy, dream-like quality and Sam was entranced with watching the gentle rise and fall of the pint-sized chest. His own chest felt tight as another wave of love shook through him. Unable to stop himself, he reached down to tenderly skim the back of two fingers against the little guy's warm cheek.

"G'night," he breathed before reluctantly joining Fiona at the door.

Shutting the door behind them, Sam leaned against the wall to get his bearings. Fiona stood across from him, watching. Forcing a smile, Sam felt exposed, unfamiliar with the intensity of this emotion and uncomfortably aware that it probably showed on his face.

"Listen," she said quietly, in deference to the sleeping boy on the other side of the door. "I was thinking...I still have some vacation time, so if it's okay with you, I thought that Johnny and I could move into the little house with you tomorrow." Sam was still grappling with his feelings and so it took a minute before her words penetrated his brain. His confusion was obviously not what Fiona was expecting because she continued in a rush.

"I mean, Johnny and I would stay in the second bedroom of course." She flushed, her cheeks pink even in the dim light from the hallway fixture. "I just thought that it would give you more time to get to know one another." Her voice trailed off awkwardly, but now that he'd understood her meaning he thought it was a wonderful idea.

"I'd like that," he said quickly, eager to reassure her. The more time he could spend with his son the better, and he'd need to learn fast how to be a parent. Routines, boundaries, likes and dislikes. He wanted to know everything about his son and wanted to do whatever he could to make co-parenting go smoothly. It would be great to have some one-on-one coaching from Fiona. She heaved a small sigh of relief and grinned at him.

"Well, uh, I think the guys are downstairs in the den if you want to join them. I'm going to help Sharron with some laundry and then maybe take a bath, so, uh see you later." She slipped past him and down the stairs before he could say anything else.

xxxxxx

Dean rolled over again, squishing the pillow into a new and hopefully sleep inducing shape. Sam was asleep in the other bed, his soft, steady breathing, both a comfort and a painful reminder that this might be the last night he ever spent with his brother. A couple of hours ago, Dean had decided to play it cool, to leave with Sam thinking that he'd be back soon. It would be easier on Sammy that way. But then after some tossing and turning, he'd changed his mind. His brother knew all his tells and he'd just hurt Sam if he lied and tried to act casual, and that wasn't how he wanted to leave things between them. Of course, he didn't want to make a big deal of leaving either. That would only worry Sam who might extract promises from Dean that he couldn't keep. Around and around his thoughts went, inventing and discarding dozens of scenarios all the while tormenting him with horrible imaginings of his life without Sam.

He'd lived through losing Sam before, both when the kid went to college and again when Sammy jumped into Hell. And this time it should be easier. This time Sam wasn't cutting him off in a fit of anger and independence. This time Sam wasn't dead, condemned to an eternity of torment. No, this time Sam was going to be content and safe. Dean was so damn happy for him. There was no reason for his chest to ache like it did or for his gritty eyes to sting. The room felt hot and stuffy and suddenly Dean felt like he couldn't catch his breath, like the walls were closing in. With a yank, Dean tossed back the covers and quietly climbed out of bed. Grabbing his boots, he crept out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.

A few minutes later, he was caressing the bold curves of his Baby. The car had been a comfort to him for his whole life. Unlike people who he'd loved and lost, she was always there. He climbed onto her hood, the stars like a blanket of glitter above him, a sight Sammy would love. Fleetingly he thought about going back inside and waking up Sam, but the stillness of the warm night was too soothing to move.

xxxxxxx

Sam woke with a start, his pulse racing. He'd been dreaming, not even a nightmare really, just twisted images of motel rooms and back roads, the scenery of his childhood. Except in his dream he couldn't find Dean. There was no monster, no threat or danger, it was just as if his brother had left the room seconds before Sam had walked in. Or that Dean was at the trunk of the car, hidden just out of view. He'd been walking and walking, looking for Dean when the ground had crumbled beneath his feet and he'd begun to fall. The dream then morphed into the memory of falling into the Pit and that jolted him awake, out of breath and flailing against the mattress. Automatically glancing at the other bed, he found it empty which did nothing to calm his thundering heart rate. Climbing out of bed he noticed Dean's boots were gone. He dashed to the window.

Now that there was no one staying in the barn or in the smaller house, there were few lights on outside. In fact the small fixture by the kitchen door was just enough to gleam softly on the black paint of the Impala. Sam released the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. Dean wouldn't leave without the car. As he stared, he recognized a familiar shape on the hood. Now that he was more awake, the dream faded away like a shadow in sunshine. He picked up his own shoes, careful to make no noise in the hallway and tiptoed downstairs. Stopping in the empty kitchen, he put on his shoes and made a quick trip to the fridge before flipping off the porch light and slipping outside.

"Hey," Sam said quietly when he got close to the car. His brother was sitting on the hood, his back resting against the windshield. The night had retained some of the daytime heat, enough that the bottles in his hand began to sweat.

"Hey," Dean said in reply, turning slightly to acknowledge Sam's approach. Glancing up Sam could see why Dean was out here. This far from town, the night sky was awash with stars, sparkling like diamonds on a black velvet background. With the porch light off, there was no competing glow, just the peaceful magic of starshine and the soft hoot of a distant owl. Handing Dean one of the beers, he climbed onto the hood, settling beside his brother. With a synchronized snick, they both opened their bottles. Sam leaned back and gazed up at the heavens.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked Dean, keeping his eyes on the stars. Taking a swig from his bottle, Dean didn't answer for a long time, long enough that Sam snuck a look at his face. Dean's expression was contemplative, open in a way that few even got a chance to see. Sam counted himself among those lucky few.

"Just thinking," Dean eventually said. "How about you?" Sam shrugged, his shoulder brushing Dean's.

"Bad dream," he admitted. When Dean shot him a glance, he waved it away. "Regular, run of the mill kind. No big deal." With that they lapsed into silence for a while, content to share the sky. For a moment it felt like time had stopped, that for once the world and it's problems would wait for them. It was nice, spending these quiet moments with his brother.

xxxxxxxx

Dean had been thinking, which experience had taught him was sometimes overrated. But he wasn't the impulsive guy he'd been in his twenties anymore so he let his mind wander. Sam's shoulder and hip were pressed against him lightly and it was a fitting metaphor. It was almost ten years ago that he'd pulled Sammy back into hunting and they'd been side by side through so much - through too much. Dean wasn't very eloquent, preferring to let his actions say what his words couldn't, but tonight, maybe it was time, the darkness making him brave.

"When you were growing up," he began softly, breaking the spell of the stars, "I did the best I could to look out for you."

"I know," Sam said, hushed.

"But I made a lot of mistakes. I didn't always say the right thing, or know how to give you what you needed."

"Dean," Sam broke in, always ready to jump to his defense, but Dean knew his own shortcomings. He held out a palm to stop Sammy.

"Just...just let me get this out, okay?" His brother nodded at him, but Dean couldn't meet Sam's eyes and say what he needed to say, so he kept his gaze on the cosmos.

"Despite everything, you grew up smart and determined. You went away to college and built a life. I understood that you needed to go, and I was happy for you even though I missed you. But then I came and got you and it all went to hell. Since then, you've had so much crap piled on you, more shit than probably anyone. I know that sometimes...well sometimes I added to it, that I made it worse." Vividly Dean remembered the cruel way he'd locked Sammy up, making him detox from the demon blood cold turkey. Alone, because his big brother was a coward, too scared and overwhelmed to watch Sam suffer. He shook the memory away.

"Anyway, you handled more than anyone could ever be expected to deal with. Stuff that I couldn't handle. And...I don't know how you did it, Sam. Life kept throwing more and more at you, and you still found a way to keep putting one foot in front of the other." He risked a glance at his brother, but Sam was just listening, staring into the darkness.

"I couldn't have done it. In fact, I didn't, and you've had to save my ass more than once. Hell, you've saved the damn world more than once." Sam was shaking his head, and Dean knew he was running out of time to make his point before Sam interrupted. He had to clear his throat to continue.

"What I'm trying to say Sam, is that I'm proud of you. You're stronger than I am Sammy, and you're a better man than I could ever be. And I know that you're going to be a great Dad for Jonathan." His words ran out with a croak, and he took a swig of his warming beer, his face hot with a blush the he was glad the shadows hid.

"Are you finished," Sam asked quietly. Dean had only said a fraction of what he was feeling, but he'd gotten the gist of what he'd wanted to say out. He waved his hand at Sam, conceding the opportunity to talk.

"First of all, WE handled it." He put emphasis on the 'we' by nudging Dean's shoulder. "All the crap that got dumped on us - we found a way. WE saved the world, not just me." How like Sam to want to share credit, Dean had to smile.

"Dean, you taught me everything I know, from how to tie my shoes and shoot a gun, to how to carry impossible burdens. And more importantly, you never gave up on me - no matter how bad things got." Sam paused then, to take a deep breath as if he was measuring out his next words carefully.

"I couldn't have made it without you, man. Whatever I am, whatever strength I have...I learned it from you, Dean."

Dean privately remembered lots of time when he had failed Sam, had flown by the seat of his pants, praying that he hadn't screwed things up past redemption. But he kept all that to himself. Sammy's words were like a balm to the part of Dean that never felt good enough, that felt like a fraud. Sam's words stole his voice and he felt tears well up. All he could do was squeeze his brother's forearm in appreciation. Sam put his giant hand on top of Dean's for a moment and Dean had to smile before pulling away to finish his beer. Sam did the same and then leaned away to drop the bottle next to the car, giving Dean enough time to put his usual defenses back in place.

"Thanks." If his voice was a little horse with emotion, Sam was generous enough not to call him on it.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers, I'm back again with another late chapter. I guess better late than never. And I admit...I still didn't quite get to all the angst and pain that I had planned for this chapter. Most had to be deferred to the next chapter to keep the story breaks in the right point. So I hope no one is too disappointed. Fortunately I've had an extra day to myself to write, so the next chapter is almost ready, and I won't make you wait. Once I'm done, I will edit and post right away. Thanks to everyone for their patience.

Dean was awake, but reluctant to open his eyes. Once he did, the day would officially start and he wanted to put it off for another few minutes. Besides, he'd heard Sam creep out of the room a little while earlier, most likely for a run before the heat of the day built up. Rolling over, Dean finally cracked open one eyelid. Ever the good house guest, Sam had stripped the sheets from the bed and bundled them, ready to be laundered. The blanket was folded neatly at the end. Something about the bare mattress and the empty room made Dean anxious, so reluctantly he sat up on the side of the bed. There was a note propped on Sam's pillow. Reaching across with one hand Dean snagged it.

"Gone for a run, Don't even think about leaving without saying goodbye. Sam."

He let the note drop onto the night table beside him and twisted his back, stretching and rolling the stiffness from his shoulders. He was getting old and today he felt every last one of his years. Last night he'd ended up emoting like a damned girl, but it had been worth it. It made this morning a little easier and although he was still dreading saying goodbye, he'd made his peace with going.

Once he climbed out of the shower and finished his morning ablutions, Dean had followed Sam's lead and pulled the sheets off his bed too. Then he'd gotten dressed and packed his duffel. Dean hadn't brought much with him since, when they'd left the bunker, he hadn't expected to be gone for more than a couple of days. It had only been a week since they'd driven out of the bunkers garage, but so much had happened, that it felt a lot longer. His new blue shirt and purple bandanna were unfamiliar pops of colour among his clothes as he zipped up his bag. He decided to wait for Sam in the kitchen where hopefully he could snag a cup of coffee.

"Morning Dean," said Colin who was sitting at the table, a folded newspaper in front of him. Johnny was at the other end of the table, eating cereal while simultaneously creating something with crayons. Fiona and Sharron were packing up some boxes on the kitchen counter. Dean recognized some of the items as coming from Fiona's home on Friday. Dropping his bag by the door, he gave the room a mumbled something that he hoped sounded vaguely like "good morning."

"Good morning, Dean," Sharron answered as Dean made a beeline for the coffee maker. He gave her a tight smile as he poured himself a cup and took the seat across from Colin. The first hot sip helped ease Dean back into the land of the living. Fiona came over to bring Jonathan some juice.

"Can I get you some breakfast Dean? There's cereal on the table, but we have some bagels left, or I can make you some eggs if you'd like?"

"Oh, thanks, no. Cereal's fine." She brought him a bowl, spoon and a carton of milk and he poured out a helping.

"What's a woman's name that means gazelle? 7 letters," Colin asked, looking up from his crossword and tapping his pencil against his lips as he thought. Sharron and Fiona both shook their heads, but once he'd swallowed his mouthful Dean answered confidently.

"Tabitha." Colin hiked an eyebrow his way.

"Yeah, that fits. How on earth did you know that?" Dean remembered one extremely erotic night a few years back with a girl named Tabitha who had a gazelle tattoo on the inside of her right thigh. But glancing at Johnny, he kept that to himself.

"Uh, I think I read it somewhere." He shrugged, turning his attention back to his breakfast.

"Colin?" asked Sharron, "could you please help your sister bring this stuff out to her car?" Colin put down his pencil and pushed to his feet. Dean half stood, happy to help but Sharron waved him off. "Finish eating Dean, Colin can do it." Before picking up the box Sharron had pointed to, Colin swept his wife literally off her feet and swung her around.

"Colin is strong!" he roared in a parody of a caveman before putting Sharron down and kissing her soundly. Fiona smacked him on the shoulder and rolled her eyes.

"Come on, lover boy. You can make out with your woman later," she joked as she shoved the back door with her hip. With a final peck, Colin grabbed the box and followed Fiona out to where the cars were parked. Sharron looked after her husband with love in her eyes. Dean pretended to study the cereal box when she glanced his way, a blush staining her cheeks.

Before she could say anything a cell phone trilled. Sharron picked her phone up from the counter and looked at the screen, then looked at Jonathan and Dean.

"Uh, could you keep an eye on him for a few minutes? I have to take this." At Dean's nod, she headed into the living room. As he crunched on a spoonful of his breakfast Dean watched his nephew. This might be the first time he was alone with the boy. Which made sense. Most parents wouldn't leave a small child alone with a strange man. So he wondered if this meant that they didn't consider him a stranger anymore.

Jonathan was hunched over his work of art, tongue firmly clenched between his teeth as he concentrated. There was so much of Sam in that gesture that Dean inhaled a muffled gasp, but enough sound must have escaped that the little guy looked up from his drawing.

"Mommy said you're going home today." It wasn't really a question, but Dean felt like he had to say something.

"Uh, yeah, I am." He wanted to offer reassurances that he'd be back and he'd see Johnny soon, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to the child. Jonathan nodded solemnly and then wiggled down off his chair, dragging the sheet of paper he'd been working on with him.

"I drawed this for you," the boy said, thrusting the sheet at Dean. Taking the piece of paper, he shoved his bowl aside and smoothed it out on the table. It looked like a set of hieroglyphics in crayon, so he scooped Jonathan up and set him on the table next to the drawing. Using his arm as a bracket to prevent the boy from falling, he leaned in close to examine his gift.

"So, why don't you tell me about it?" he asked, not wanting to hurt the kid's feelings by not interpreting things correctly. Judging by his blinding smile, Jonathan was more than happy to explain.

"That's mommy," he said as he poked a chubby finger at one of the stick figures. The orange hair might have been a clue had Dean recognized it as hair and not an explosion.

"That's Sebastian." The grey blob with 5 legs now also made sense, so Dean nodded encouragingly.

"That's Daddy," Johnny continued, pointing at the tallest figure. Dean suppressed a snicker at the flowing brown locks the child had given Sam.

"And that's you!" the little guy chirped enthusiastically. His portrait was topped with spiky, hedgehog-like hair, but Dean figured at least he was only slightly shorter than Sam in the drawing. There was one more small figure on the page and Dean tilted his head to meet hazel eyes that were both familiar and new.

"Is that you?" he asked carefully.

"Yup," declared Jonathan, swinging his legs happily.

"Well it's an awesome picture, thank you." Dean gently squeezed the little shoulder.

"You can keep it and 'den you'll remember us when you go home." His nephew's innocent kindness was like a stab in the heart. He was still sure of his decision, but Dean had to admit that he was going to miss more than just Sam when he left. As he struggled to find something to say that would make sense to a 5 year old, Sharron came back into the kitchen. Fiona and Colin arrived at the same time and suddenly the kitchen was full of conversation again and the moment had passed. Dean lifted Johnny down and set him on his red and blue sneakers.

The screen door behind him creaked and three more people entered the room. Declan, Ethan and Jacob were all carrying their bags. Johnny ran over to greet his uncles and Declan crouched down to talk with him while the other men got coffee. Last to enter the room was Sam. He crept in from the living room, his hair damp from what had to have been the quickest shower on record. A flicker of relief crossed his face when he caught sight of Dean, but it was replaced with a smile before anyone else would have noticed. Folding his gift, Dean made his way over to his brother, stopping to tuck the drawing into his bag.

"Good run?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah. I just needed to burn off some nervous energy, you know?" Dean wasn't into running the way Sam was, but he understood. Part of him was dying to jump in the car and get out on the road, but another part of him wanted to cling to these last few minutes with his brother.

"Well, everyone, it's been a slice, but we've got to hit the road," announced Ethan, before shouldering his bag and gesturing towards where Sharron and Colin were standing. "Thanks for everything you guys." Sharron gave him a hug before moving on to Jacob and her other brother-in-law. Colin clapped them both on the back and followed them as they moved towards the door. Ethan waved at him and Sam, but Jacob came over and held out his hand, first to Sam and then to Dean.

"See you later, Sam. It was nice meeting you, Dean. Thanks for the drive yesterday," he said as he shook their hands. Then everyone moved out onto the porch to say goodbye. Declan was catching a ride back to town with them, so once the dust settled on the driveway, Dean was starting to feel like the last guest at a party. It was time to go. The adults were scattered around the kitchen, chatting and lingering over a second cup of coffee.

"Well, I guess I'd better head out too," said Dean as he picked up his duffel.

"You know you're welcome to stay longer, Dean," Colin stated while Sharron nodded.

"Thank you," he replied even as he shook his head. "I've got work I've got to get back to." Colin accepted his refusal with a sympathetic look.

"I understand, but you're welcome here any time." As her husband spoke, Sharron appeared with a large bag that she handed to Dean.

"Here's some sandwiches and some snacks for the road." He took it from her with a smile of thanks. She leaned in and gave him a firm hug which he returned one handed. "Don't be a stranger, Dean," she said in a wistful tone. Again, Dean found himself tempted by the offer of being part of this family, people who were accepting and loving. But the image of Crowley, decked out like a damn priest knocking on their door made it easier to resist that temptation. The best thing he could do to keep them safe and off of the radar of all the evil things out there, was to get back on the job. If he can figure out how to deal with Amara, hopefully he'll keep the focus off of Sam and the MacCallums, and give his brother a chance for the life Dean had to turn down.

"Thanks," he said for a second time, regret staining the word. Johnny bounced over before things could get too emotional.

"Bye Uncle Dean," he shouted in that odd way that children have. Dean ruffled the dark curls.

"Bye Buddy, you take care of your Mom and Dad, okay?" Dean let his fingers linger in the soft hair for a fraction of a moment longer before stepping away. Fiona came to join her son.

"You too, Dean," she said softly, balancing against his free arm to stand on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Thanks for everything." He quirked half a grin at her, then with a final wave to the room, turned and fled to the porch. Sam was at his shoulder all the way to the car, hovering as Dean put his duffel into the trunk and the bag of food into the passenger seat. Maybe keeping it there would make the seat seem a little less empty. Finally there was nothing left to do but say goodbye.

xxxxxxx

Sam watched as Dean stowed his gear. This was all a little surreal. Dean was going. Not just to check on a lead, or hit up a bar for a few hours or even away for a few days to deal with a simple solo hunt. This time Dean was going for good. Sam knew his brother better than anyone, and Dean couldn't entirely hide his feelings from him. He'd been genuinely sad as he said goodbye just now. Which he wouldn't be if he had any intention of coming back.

The logical part of Sam's brain got it. There were a lot of sinister and dangerous things that would love to hurt him, Dean or anyone they cared about. It was why they had few friends since neither of them wanted to put anyone else at risk. An unwanted image of Charlie's broken body flashed through his memory along with the crushing guilt he felt over her death. People who got close to him died. It had been a big factor to consider when he'd been deciding whether to stay or not. And he knew it was something that weighed heavily on Dean's mind too.

So intellectually he understood why Dean planned to leave and not return, but emotionally, he was wrecked. Who was he without his brother? Every other time he'd lost Dean, he'd been a complete mess, making bad decisions, being reckless, hiding from the world. He prayed that this time, knowing that Dean was at least still out there, a phone call away, he wouldn't make the same mistakes.

"So, uh, I'll send you your clothes and stuff as soon as I'm back." Sam couldn't meet Dean's eyes, not if he wanted to keep the tears at bay. He took a deep breath through his nose.

"Sure," he said. "Call and let me know when you get back to the bunker." This inane small talk felt bizarre. There was so much he wanted to say, but he'd used up all his meaningful words last night. Dean nodded and glanced up at him. There was a damp sparkle in those green eyes.

"Sam," Dean began but trailed off as Sam waited patiently. Dean chewed his lip then dragged a hand down his face. "You're gonna be fine, okay. But if you need anything, just...just call me." Sam couldn't speak, so he just nodded a lot, his damp hair swinging forward to brush his cheeks. A rogue tear slid from one eye and he dashed it away.

"C'mere," Dean whispered as he wrapped an arm around Sam's neck and pulled him down into a hug. Sam closed his eyes and tried to imprint this feeling into his memory forever. He clutched at Dean's shirt tightly for a moment, not wanting to let go, but eventually he forced himself to pull away, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes as he did. Dean just cleared his throat, pulled open the door and slid behind the wheel. With a final caress for the only home he'd ever really known, Sam firmly shut the door. Dean rolled down the window and turned the engine on. The familiar rumble vibrated through Sam as he stepped back. With a final two fingered wave, Dean pulled out and headed down the driveway. Once upon a time, in some book somewhere, Sam had read that if you watched someone you love leaving until you couldn't see them anymore, then you'd never see them again. Normally he had no patience with superstition, but just before the black car turned onto the road and was hidden by the trees, Sam closed his eyes.

He couldn't quite face Fiona and the others just yet. For a long while, Sam sat on the steps, translating a summoning ritual from Latin to Farsi in his head to avoid thinking. If he let himself think, he wasn't sure that he wouldn't call Dean and beg him to come back. The distraction was somewhat successful because although he heard the door open behind him, he was surprised when skinny arms snaked around his neck. Johnny's solid, warm body pressed against his back in a hug and he patted the tiny hands that were clasped under his chin.

"Are you sad?" the little guy asked. He was, but sorrow wasn't something he could burden a child with. Plus, he was also eager and happy to get to know this small person who had already become such a huge part of his heart.

"Yes," he answered simply. Jonathan slid around his body to crawl into Sam's lap. The boy's arms were still around Sam's neck and the boy stared up at his face from inches away.

"Why?" he chirped in his child's voice, his innocence beaming from him like a ray of light.

"Because I'm going to miss my brother." He gave his son a wobbly smile. Johnny stared at him some more before suddenly leaning in to tighten his bird like arms and rest his chin on Sam's shoulder.

"Does this help?" he whispered in Sam's ear. Gently he hugged the small body as tightly as he dared.

"Yes, it does," Sam whispered back, nuzzling slightly into Johnny's soft hair which smelled like shampoo and grass. How could a heart that was breaking also feel like bursting? Jonathan pulled back, and Sam reluctantly released him.

"You can borrow Sebastian to keep you company." The stuffie was then carefully propped up beside him on the step. When the toy was appropriately positioned, Johnny stared up at him and a small hand reached up to touch his cheek.

"I love you, Daddy," Johnny said solemnly. Sam's breath caught as his heart swelled with joy that felt both unfamiliar and undeserved.

"I love you too," he replied softly, hoping that his son could feel all the emotion those words were too minusculeto contain. A grin crept across Jonathan's face like a sunrise, and then the boy wiggled away to run up to his mother who had just come out of the house.

Fiona had her purse over her shoulder and car keys in her hand. Sam went over and studied how she deftly buckled Johnny into his booster seat in the back seat, a skill he'd need to learn. Once the boy was secured, Fiona turned to him.

"Are you alright? I know with Dean leaving…" she let her words trail away, looking uncomfortable.

"I'm fine," Sam lied. "I'll talk to him tonight." He gave her a smile that felt forced, but apparently looked authentic enough that she took him at his word.

"Okay, well, we need to run into town. I'm going to check at the store, run a little laundry and pack up some stuff for the week." She rattled off the list of items casually until she looked him. Then a flush tinted her cheeks. "Sorry, I never thought...uh, did you want to come with us?"

Sam wanted to spend as much time with Johnny as possible, but it was fairly obvious that she hadn't planned on his company and had only asked to be polite. He almost suggested that their son stay here with him, but immediately wondered if it was too soon to expect unsupervised time with the child. After all, Fiona still didn't really know him very well, so he waved her suggestion away.

"No, that's fine. I'm going to ask Colin or Sharron to show me my new accommodations." The relief that crossed her face let him know he'd given the right answer.

"Well, uh, we should go. We'll probably be back around lunch." She started to get in the car, but stopped and touched his arm. "You and I can talk some more then," she said as she slid into the vehicle. Glancing at his watch, it was just about 8:30, and he wondered how he was going to spend the morning. Sam stepped back and Johnny waved at him through the window as Fiona swung the silver Honda around. He waved back until the car was halfway down the long drive.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They say "write hot, edit cool." Well I wrote a hot 2500 extra words to this chapter that I loved, but ultimately had to edit out. So, hence the delay. Thanks to shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for their review.
> 
> WARNING: There is some semi-graphic imagery and upsetting content in this chapter. I've been warning that it's coming, so read at your own risk.

Tom Bromont wasn't used to the big truck he was driving, in fact, if Jamal wasn't still on his honeymoon and Chris laid up with a broken foot, he'd never be out here making deliveries to these small towns. He much preferred work back at the warehouse, where there was a lot less pressure and he could enjoy the company of the other guys. His bad mood continued as his phone rang. It was the office, so he couldn't just ignore it. "Now what" he grumbled to himself as he hit connect.

"Hi Connie," he answered with a sigh.

"Hey Tom, just checking to see where you are." Connie was nice enough, but she could be a no-nonsense taskmaster. sometimes. He glanced at the clock on his dash which read 8:43.

"I just left Kempville about 25 minutes ago. Why?"

"'Cause Mike just called and he wants that delivery in Hammond by 9:30 sharp." She sounded apologetic, not that it did Tom any good.

"Jesus, Connie, I'll have to really put the pedal down to get there on time." He was just approaching Watkins bridge and Hammond was a good 50 minutes from there. It was going to be tight.

"I hear ya, Tom, but you know how Mike gets." Yeah, he did. Mike was an unreasonable son of a bitch most of the time. Normally he didn't have to deal with him directly since the warehouse had a lot of places where he could make himself scarce when the boss came by. He sighed again.

"Thanks Connie, I'll do my best." After saying a quick goodbye, he disconnected the call. Pushing the accelerator a little faster than he would like, he reached for his styrofoam cup of caffeine.

He had just driven onto the bridge, coffee halfway to his mouth, when he heard a loud pop of a blown tire and the wheel jerked sharply under his hand. The hot coffee flew up and then splashed against his chest and legs as he instinctively tried to get both hands on the wheel. Cursing the painful scalding, he wrestled with the big vehicle which bounced against the metal guardrail. The murky, green-blue of the water below momentarily came into view and Tom panicked, afraid that he was going to plummet into the river.

Yanking the wheel away from the precipice, the truck yawed wildly across the bridge, smashing into a small silver Honda that was coming from the other direction. With an ominous rumble, Tom both heard and felt the cargo in the back of the truck break free and slam forward. He stomped on the brakes, locking up the wheels, but the pedal was wet with coffee and his foot slid and caught the accelerator as he fought for control. The momentum was too great and the crumpled Honda was pushed up the railing on the other side of the bridge.

For a second, his eyes met those of the woman driver, frozen wide with terror. Her mouth was open in a scream he couldn't hear over the screech of tearing metal and squeal of rubber on the asphalt. As something in the back fell and shifted, the truck lurched again, crushing the front of the truck further into the car and the whole mess tilted inexorably further into the side of the bridge. Tom's head whipped forward and to the side with the impact, knocking hard against the window. His last thought before he lost consciousness was that Mike was going to be furious.

xxxxxxx

For 10 years now, Deputy Kyle Warren had been on the job. He'd seen pretty much everything a small town like Kempville could throw at him. Sometimes he wondered if he should test his mettle and apply for a policing job in a big city like Indianapolis, or St. Louis, but he had been born and raised in Kempville and his heart was here.

Working with the Sheriff was pretty much all he could have wished for when he decided to become a cop. Brian was a good guy who cared about the town and its citizens. The entire Sheriff's office took the motto "To Serve and Protect" seriously. Brian was less than 5 years older then he was, so Kyle considered him both a friend and a mentor. He had just joined the force around the time when when Mr. and Mrs. MacCallum had died. He remembered how tough that was on Brian, trying to earn his stripes while taking care of three teenagers. He admired the man and was proud to be working for him.

A flashing red light distantly appeared on the road behind him and Kyle was happy to know that although he would be first on scene, he would have the support of the volunteer firefighters to help. Some of these wrecks were a mess. He picked up his radio and called back to the shop where Shirley picked up.

"Hi Shirley." The older woman was amazing at keeping the whole station in order, but she had never adapted to the police radio, so you had to talk to her as if you were on the phone if you needed information.

"Oh hi Deputy," she answered.

"So I'm about 5 minutes out from the bridge, Shirl, any intel on what I'm getting in to?" Sometimes the official call didn't contain all the facts, but Shirley knew everyone in the whole county and so she often had more details from unofficial sources about whatever was happening.

"Sounds like a bad one, Kyle. Don Gorman called it in and said that the sound of the crash was so loud it scared his dog half to death. And my friend Carol, she lives by the turn off, well she walked down to the end of her lane and she says there's a truck tipped right over onto its nose blocking the bridge. She told me she's sending her son Roger over." Roger Powell coached the high school football team and he was a solid man with some basic medical training. As the first glimpse of the wrecked truck came into view around a bend in the road, Kyle would be glad for any help he could get. This one looked bad.

"Okay, thanks. I'm just pulling up now and it looks like we're going to need a heavy winch and some more hands on deck, Shirl."

"Wayne already dispatched fire and rescue, but I'll send Marnie and Wayne," she said, all efficiency now. Kyle thanked her and replaced the radio as he pulled over at the edge of the bridge. He put his hazards on and climbed out of his rig. The truck was propped up on its cab, the back twisted and bent, one of the cargo doors had popped open and was creaking slightly on rusty hinges. The guardrail of the bridge was scraped away, crumpled like paper and dangling towards the river. Fluids were leaking from the engine, forming puddles on the bridge which dripped into the water. Luckily the driver's side was still on the pavement and Kyle hurried over to the door. Blood smeared on the window which had broken into a spiderweb, and the driver wasn't moving. Tugging on the handle, Kyle was just able to pry open the cab.

"Hey, need a hand?," a voice called from over his shoulder, startling Kyle slightly. He saw Roger approaching around the back of the truck with a large first aid kit and a couple of blankets. Kyle waved him over and cautiously climbed up to check on the man in the truck. The older guy was dripping blood down the side of his head, unconscious, but with a strong pulse. The truck didn't look like it was in danger of going over the side, so it was probably best to leave the man until the firefighters got here. They were only a few minutes behind him.

"The guy is alive, so I'll just put one of those blankets on him and wait for fire and rescue to arrive." The sound of a siren grew steadily and Roger nodded passing up the requested item.

"How about the car he hit?" Roger asked. The car? At his puzzled look Roger motioned him to the other side of the truck. Walking around, it was amazing how, from this side the wreck looked even worse. The cab was pushed back into the body of the truck at an angle and mashed between the grill and one of the huge bridge trusses was a silver car. Kyle's stomach dropped. Judging by how mangled the vehicle was, this could be gruesome, and not something civilians needed to see.

"Roger, I'll check the car, you go meet the firefighters." Without looking to see if the other man had obeyed, Kyle forced himself to approach the car. The truck had pushed the smaller vehicle almost on its side, wheels towards the river, so Kyle had to crouch down to try and see into it. Blood was pooling under the smashed window, but he saw a shock of long red hair and a woman's hand dangling from the wreck.

"Ma'am?," he asked as he maneuvered to get a better look. He reached up to check for a pulse and her face tilted towards him. Kyle's heart began to race as he recognized the victim. It was Brian's sister, Fiona. Not much of a praying man, he nevertheless sent a message heavenwards as he searched for a pulse with trembling fingers. He didn't find one. Wiping his bloody fingers on his pants, he tried to calm his ragged breathing. Dear God, what was he going to tell his friend?

A small sound came from within the car and hope leapt into his throat until he realized that it hadn't come from the front seat. Shifting toward the back, Kyle moved a box and some debris out of his way so that he could see into the rear. Brian's little nephew was suspended in his booster seat. The other side of the car had torn open and part of the torn railing jutted through pinning the child where he sat. Unable to reach the boy, Kyle watched, holding his breath until the youngster moaned and moved his head slightly. Climbing out from under the car as quickly as he could Kyle ran to the back of the truck and waved frantically at the rescue crew that had just arrived.

"Over here! He's alive, get over here!"

xxxxxxxx

Dean took his time heading out of town. First he stopped at Suzie Q's for take out coffee and a danish. Then he spent some time driving around the town. He saw tidy residential neighbourhoods, shabby side streets, and two or three back roads that probably connected with other local communities. Like most places of its size, there wasn't much to Kempville. The main street held most of the businesses with some blue collar workplaces on the fringes. There was one elementary school about half a block away from the only high school, but he drove by five churches, each a different denomination. He also made a point of cruising past the address Declan had given him. Sure enough the house was a modest two story, set back from the street at the end of a cul-de-sac.

All in all, he'd been through thousands of towns just like this one in his life. The only difference was that this was the one where Sam was going to live, and that meant that Dean needed to know everything about Kempville. Still, there was only so long a tour through this burgh was going to take and so he hit the main road towards the highway.

As he drove, he found himself glancing to his right. The empty passenger seat brought up memories of their last hunt in Oregon. It had been an epic trip, and he'd finally shaken off the last residue from the Mark of Cain and felt like himself again. Funny, who could have imagined that ganking a ghoul-pire would be Sam's last case? Had Dean known this would the final case he worked with Sam, would he have done things differently? Nah, he snorted wryly to himself. Probably not. And hey, a least Sammy retired on a win. Resolutely ignoring the empty seat beside him, Dean turned the radio up and reluctantly pointed Baby towards Lebanon.

About 10 minutes outside of town, Dean's phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket with one hand. A glance showed that it was his brother and he had to smile. Guess the kid missed him already. Still, he didn't have it in him to say another anguished goodbye, so he thought about ignoring the call, but curiosity and his unending need to respond to Sam had him thumbing the answer button.

"Hey Sam, what's up?" He tried to keep his voice light; no need to make this even more painful.

"Dean."

It was just one word, his name, but Sam's voice wavered. Dean had heard his brother say his name in a million different ways and countless different circumstances, but the misery in Sam's voice had Dean slowing down to pull the car onto the shoulder.

"Sam, what's happening?" Even as he asked, he knew something was horribly wrong. Sam never sounded like that. The kid took a deep, shuddery breath and Dean's stomach dropped. This was bad.

"Sam!?" he prompted again, more urgently, as he tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. Whatever was going on, he needed to get back to his brother. Kicking up gravel he yanked the car around 180. He could hear as his brother swallowed hard a few times, apparently unable to form words.

"There's been an accident," Sam began, his voice tight and higher than usual. "It's Fiona and Jonathan. Brian just called." His voice broke and he gasped for breath and Dean could almost see him fighting for control.

"Okay, Sammy. Just hold on, I'll be there as soon as I can." Sam cleared his throat. The kid was obviously crying.

"'Kay," rasped Sam. Shit, Sam could be a bit of an emo sap sometimes, but he seldom flat out cried. Listening to it caused a familiar ache in Dean's chest. He put his foot down and the car leapt forward like it's namesake.

His explorations of earlier this morning served him well and he was able to keep his speed up as he cut around downtown. An ambulance blasted by him headed in the opposite direction and Dean could hear a medivac helicopter overhead. As he approached the bridge across the river, he saw flashing lights and vehicles pulled over along the side of the road. Notably he saw the Sheriff's SUV. He slowed down and crept the car towards the edge of the bridge. Deputy Bryden was there looking particularly serious as he set up some traffic cones. Dean rolled down the window as he pulled abreast.

"Hey, Deputy? What happened?" Wayne walked over and leaned down to talk through the window.

"Hey Dean," he said. He shot a glance over his shoulder at the wreck and grimaced. "It's pretty terrible. The poor Sheriff." As Dean's questioning look, he just shook his head. "I'd better let you through to talk to Kyle." Standing back Wayne motioned him forward across the narrowed bridge.

Dean inched the Impala past the battered truck, careful to avoid emergency personnel who were bringing equipment across the bridge. As he passed the crumpled cargo truck, he saw that the activity was clustered around the front and a mangled hunk of metal. From this angle he could barely recognize it as a car, but he caught a glimpse of the silver trunk and his heart sunk. That was Fiona's car. Crossing the bridge, Dean quickly parked out of the way and jogged back to where the Sheriff and his Deputy were standing.

"Brian!" Dean called, but the Sheriff never turned around. It was Deputy Warren who walked back to meet him.

"Hey," the officer said. He looked pained and troubled.

"What happened?" Dean asked for what felt like the 10th time. He may not have any clout here, but he slipped into the authoritative persona he usually reserved for a case. Kyle lowered his voice but responded, even as he threw a look over his shoulder at his boss.

"Looks like the truck lost control. The driver is on his way to Millford General. Jonathan…," at this, Kyle had to pause, and Dean could see the man fight to control himself as he'd been trained. "Uh, the child was airlifted to Millford as well. But," his voice grew even softer and sorrow crept into his tone. "Fiona didn't make it. They're cutting her free now." Kyle dragged a hand down his face and rubbed his chin sadly.

Damn. Death was a familiar companion for Dean, but this was still shocking. The idea that Fiona was gone was hard to swallow. The girl had been kind, funny and sweet. Fleetingly he remembered the sparkle in her eyes as she doused him with water, and then the brush of her lips on his cheek as she'd claimed him as family. The loss hit him, tightening his chest and weighing him down. She didn't deserve to die, although Dean knew better than anyone that people seldom got what they deserved. His eyes drifted to Brian who hadn't moved from where he was standing, watching the firefighters work.

"Thanks," Dean told Kyle, before going over to stand beside the Sheriff.

Brian was white, all the color drained from his face. He stood completely rigid, hands tightly gripping the edge of his hat which he was slowly twisting. Dean didn't know the man very well, but he'd come to respect him over the past few days. The MacCallums were a tight knit family and this loss was going to be hard to bear. Although he knew first hand how Brian was feeling, all he could do was stand in silent solidarity with the man.

"I taught her to drive, you know," Brian murmured, so quietly that Dean wouldn't have heard if he wasn't standing right beside him. "She was such a careful driver, even more so once Johnny came along." Dean cast a glance at Brian's stricken expression. He was still staring at the hub of activity near the totaled car, but he wasn't seeing it. Brian was obviously lost in memory.

"When Johnny arrived, we fought. I told her that we'd all take care of her, that I wanted her to stay in school. But she was so stubborn, determined to make it on her own. And she did." Brian's voice cracked and tears began to trail down his face. He didn't bother to wipe them away and they fell darkening his uniform shirt just above his badge.

"I don't know if I ever told her how proud I was of her." Brian's words were heavy with regret as he roughly smeared the tears from his cheeks. He wanted to reassure the grieving man, but it wasn't his place. Suddenly Dean was profoundly grateful that last night he had found the courage to tell Sam how he felt. Brian wasn't going to get that chance.

The activity by the wreck paused as a limp body was moved to a gurney and covered by a sheet. Slowly they began to move Fiona to the waiting ambulance. The sight of the shrouded body seemed to unlock Brian and he moved towards the gurney. With a respectful nod, the paramedics stepped away, leaving the Sheriff alone with his sister. Dean turned away too, granting the privacy he would want if he were the one saying goodbye.

Feeling the need to act, to do something, Dean jogged back to the car. He slipped the EMF meter out of the trunk and then walked back to the wreckage. Discreetly, but efficiently, Dean scanned the truck cab, what was left of the car, and the bridge surrounding the area. The EMF didn't react. There was no proof of spirit activity, and no sulfur or other signs of demonic involvement. It was a bittersweet relief to know that Fiona hadn't died because of the supernatural. Hopefully knowing that would help Sam. He slid the meter into his pocket and headed back to where Brian and Kyle were watching the paramedics get ready to leave. The slam of the closing doors had a ring of finality that made Brian visibly startle. The poor man was in shock.

With one hand on his friend's shoulder, Kyle waved Dean over.

"Uh, Dean, you don't mind taking Brian back to the main house do you? His rig is on the opposite side of the bridge." Judging by the pointed look Kyle was giving him, it was obvious that the deputy just didn't want the other man driving.

"Of course, I need to get back to Sam anyhow." He nodded at the deputy who gently shoved Brian towards the Impala. Moving on autopilot, the stunned Sheriff followed him back to the car. With a quick glance at Brian's pale face Dean turned the radio off and the heat up. Outside the windshield the morning was beautiful, the sky was blue and the sun was shining. Inside the car, the oppressive quiet felt more appropriate for a wet and gloomy night. It was almost jarring.

Thankfully it was a short drive. Brian spent the trip staring blankly at his hands and, not wanting to offer empty platitudes, Dean left him alone. It wasn't until he turned the car into the long driveway that Brian spoke.

"Why does this keep happening to my family?" he moaned. There wasn't anything even slightly amusing about the situation, but Dean had to smirk sadly. Ironically, that was the question he'd so often asked himself. He gripped the leather wrapped steering wheel, whitening his knuckles.

"I wish I knew," Dean said as he parked the car beside the house.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And I'm back. It's been way too long, and I apologize for keeping you, my dear readers waiting. I found myself struggling with my own grief as I wrote these final chapters. That combined with a insane work load, I found myself too tired and despondent to write. But I was able to coax myself back to finish this story. Special thanks to shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod for her friendship and support. Hopefully this wrap up will be satisfying.

Since the phone call that had let them know about the accident, Sam had been focused on only one thing. Getting to Jonathan. Well, that wasn't one hundred percent true, his very first instinct, the same instinct that had guided his whole life, had been to turn to his brother. So he'd called Dean even before the initial shock had settled.

His brother had barely stopped the car at the farmhouse before Sam had climbed in and demanded to get to Millford General Hospital to be with his son. He'd left Dean to make explanations or excuses. It didn't matter. His son had needed him. Despite how fast Dean had driven, the trip was torturously long as his mind raced ahead, desperate to be by Johnny's side. At that point, he hadn't known the nature or extent of the boy's injuries, but he knew that if he could offer anything to save his son - blood, bone or organ, he needed to be there to do it.

Now, standing in this room looking down at Jonathan, Sam was like an insect caught in amber, insignificant and paralyzed. He could hear his own heart pound in his head and his knees were weak. Clutching the edge of the bed with a vice like grip, he swayed slightly. Dean was hovering somewhere over his left shoulder, ready as always to catch him if he fell, but Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, determined to center himself before looking.

Jonathan was colorless except for his dark curls that fanned out like a halo. He should be playing and running, not lying here so still in this antiseptic smelling room. Sam tenderly put his palm on the sheet covering his son's chest. His hand spanned Jonathan's entire torso, a stark reminder of just how small and fragile his little body was. There was no rise and fall, no soft breath or adorable snore. His son was dead. He had died before Sam even got to the hospital, too late to do anything about it.

Sam blinked hard, fighting against the tears that were blurring his vision, but they fell anyway, trailing hot down his cheek. He scrubbed them away violently with his fingers. He wanted to scream, to smash something, to howl out his anger. Hadn't he given enough? Hadn't he lost almost everything and everyone he'd ever cared for? Wasn't that payment enough? How could the universe hate him so much that it would steal his little boy? Sam's fury and tears closed his throat and he gasped as he struggled to breathe around the crushing weight.

"Sam," Dean said softly, his voice dripping with compassion, offering with that one word the lifeline that had sustained Sam since he was a child. But Sam shook his head, blind from the tears that refused to stop. He didn't want comfort or sympathy, he wanted his son back. Dean may have borne the Mark of Cain, but it was Sam who was cursed. Mom, Jess, Dad, Bobby, Charlie and now Fiona and Jonathan. A laundry list of pain and sorrow - loss compounded by relentless loss.

"Why does this keep happening to me?," Sam asked hoarsely, unable to control the sob that choked his question.

Maybe it was too much to ask. To have anything more than Dean and Cas. He'd learned a long time ago that the cards would always be stacked against him, that what he wanted didn't matter, and this was just the latest reminder. Last year, he'd fought so hard to get Dean back, thrown everything he'd had into saving his brother. He'd prayed for a miracle and against all odds, had gotten one. There was no use in wishing for another. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand, determined to stop crying. Tears had never been useful and they wouldn't change anything now.

"Sammy," Dean sighed, but didn't continue. Sam didn't really expect an answer. Instead, Dean's warm hand on the back of his shoulder steadied him.

Like draining floodwaters, all the anger syphoned away leaving behind a muddy numbness that was almost a relief. Outside, down the hall, Sam could hear muffled crying and the voices of Fiona's brothers but their grief seemed muted and distant. They had lost so much too. Sam closed his eyes for a second and forced himself to breathe. Dean was acting as a bulwark between him and the MacCallums, but he knew he should speak to them himself. No matter how much he just wanted to slip away and lick his wounds, they deserved more. He just wasn't sure he could do it. With the back of trembling fingers, he gently brushed Jonathan's cheek one last time and then wrenched himself away, letting the numb feeling deaden his grief for now.

"I've got to...I should…" Sam stumbled out his words, dazed, unable to gather his thoughts to figure out what came next. Blindly he grasped at Dean's arm, needing his brother to guide him.

"Okay, it'll be okay. I'll take care of it," Dean said in a soothing tone, gripping him by the elbow and shepherding him towards the door. All Sam could do was nod and relinquish control to his brother, the one person who had always steered him unwaveringly.

xxxxxxxx

Sharron was angry and helpless. She attached the pen to the clipboard that had been handed to her. with a hard snap. Although she was not a blood relation, the nurse seemed to sense that she was the only one capable of dealing with the prosaic details right now. It made her sick to even look at it, but she filled in what she knew. Dropping the paperwork on the chair behind her, she got up to slowly pace the room. Somehow a wonderful weekend had turned completely FUBAR and she was too agitated to sit, but also didn't want to disturb the grief stricken men in front of her.

On one side of the small room, Jacob was sitting beside Ethan, gently rubbing his shaking back as his partner cried softly into his hands. Jacob had tears trailing down his own cheeks as he mopped at his face with a wad of tissues.

Declan was leaning against the wall across from her, arms wrapped tightly around himself, staring blankly into the middle distance. He shed no tears, but the haunted look he sported seemed worse somehow. She'd seen airmen like after a fellow pilot's plane had suddenly flipped upside down and augered in. For some people, death took a while to process.

Colin and Brian were sitting close together on her other side, talking quietly. They were both calm now, although looking haggard and shellshocked. Hopefully they could draw some comfort from each other. As much as she loved and adored her husband, she had acknowledged before they got married that he had a special bond with his twin. Sometimes they needed each other in a way she didn't understand. Not that she could do anything to help in this case anyway. Tears began to pool in her own eyes again so she clenched her fists and shook them away. Fiona had been like a sister and Jonathan...his life had barely begun before it had been stolen from him. Sharron had never wanted to punch something so badly.

A noise in the hall caught her attention and Dean and Sam entered the room. Dean had a hand hovering behind his brother as if to steady him, but Sam didn't look like he needed it. His eyes were rimmed with red, but if she hadn't seen him at the house before, she would never know that he was grieving and in pain. Instinctively she recognized the warrior in him, one who had learned to hide any weakness. She briefly wondered how many tragedies he must have suffered to learn such absolute control. Glancing at Dean she saw a similar stoicism. He was worried for Sam, but it was subtle and the expression slid off his face when he met her gaze. Sam crossed the room and took a seat, but Dean came over to her.

"How's he doing?", she asked, flicking her chin towards Sam. Dean scrubbed a hand over his hair and across the back of his neck. He gave her an assessing look, then sagged just a little.

"Not good," he admitted with a sigh. She nodded at that. Weariness washed over her and she was grateful that Dean seemed to be able to help take care of things.

"I, uh took the liberty of filling in as much of the paperwork as I could," she murmured, picking up the clipboard again. "But there was some information for Sam I don't have." She let Dean pull the board from her hand.

"I'll finish it." He took a moment to complete the documents while she watched him. He'd done this before. Her curiosity was tweaked, but now was not the time for questions about his past. Dean paused when he got the section that had Sharron tearing up.

"We uh, were planning to have them moved to Harrison & Sons in Kempville," she stated. "They're the funeral home that handled Colin's parents, so…." There really wasn't more to say, but she found herself rambling nervously as Dean scanned the papers. "Brian said that Fiona would want Jonathan and her to be cremated. I hope that's okay with Sam." She glanced his way, but he was just sitting. It was only his posture and the way he gripped his hands together tightly that revealed his distress. Obviously Sam's opinion here should matter, but hopefully he wouldn't make this more difficult than it had to be. Dean's eyes slid over his brother with an assessing look, but he just handed the documents back to her.

"That's fine. Sam's okay with cremation." He said confidently and Sharron breathed a sigh of relief. She scanned the room, then ran her hand over her mouth as she considered next steps. It looked like she was going to have to take charge of this family for a little while. She drew on her training and made a command decision.

"There is nothing more we can do here. I think everyone should come back to our place for now. Aiden will be arriving as soon as he can and there are a lot of phone calls that need to be made." Just the thought of having to contact the extended family was exhausting. "You and Sam are welcome to stay at the little house if you want." Dean chewed on his lip, visibly considering the offer.

"Thanks, I think we will." The worried look crept back onto his face as his eyes drifted back to Sam and studied his brother.

Her vision blurred with tears again and she dug a tissue out of her pocket and daubed at her face. Wordlessly Dean squeezed her arm lightly and she gave him a watery smile.

xxxxxx

The past few days had gone by with agonizing slowness. Dean loathed waiting at the best of times, but sitting around spinning his wheels, watching Sam suffer...well it was torture. Once again the universe had screwed Sam over. Giving him a taste of a wonderful future and then cruelly snatching it away. He couldn't stand to see Sam hurting, and he hated this helpless feeling. If it had been up to him, he would have taken Sam and gone home. But Sammy wanted to stay for the funeral, so Dean had cooled his heels and tried to take care of his brother the best he could.

Ten years ago, when Jessica had died it had been easier in some ways. As a 22 year old, Sammy had cried himself to exhaustion, followed him around in a heartbroken fog, weepy and wounded, like a sad puppy. Until he got angry and blew up at him, Dad, the utter unfairness of their life, or something else, then the cycle would start again. Back then, Dean knew how to handle that Sam - coax the kid to eat, keep him busy, crack a few jokes, and stay close. But this time, his usual big brother skills weren't working.

This time Sam had been so unnervingly calm that it reminded him eerily of the soulless, RoboSam version of his brother. Except he could read the agony in the depths of Sam's hazel eyes. As a man, Sam was tougher now, he'd endured so much in the past ten years, survived the unimaginable. But he wasn't unbreakable, and it was only a matter of time before he cracked, and Dean was determined to be there for him when he did.

Wanting to do something, he'd snuck out Tuesday night when Sam had finally fallen asleep. He couldn't help Sam, but he could do his other job. So he'd broken into the funeral home and paid his respects to Fiona and Jonathan. His own grief seemed selfish and small in light of how much Sam had lost but still, he allowed himself a few moments of sorrow before salting their bodies. It was probably unnecessary, but they were to be cremated and the purity of the salt would ensure that they would rest in peace. It was perhaps the only kindness he could have done for them. He only wished he knew how to give Sammy some peace. Eventually he'd tried talking to Sam, had even opened up a bit about his own feelings, but his brother didn't want to talk and simply stopped responding when Dean pushed.

This morning at the funeral, he'd stood beside Sam, trying to offer what strength he could. Not that Sam seemed to need it. His brother has been still, rigid as iron throughout the service, seemingly oblivious to the intense emotions swirling around them. While the MacCallums wept with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable to witness, Sam - his emo, big hearted, compassionate brother - didn't shed a single tear. Not even when the little white box that held the ashes of his son was put into the ground. Honestly, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, but Dean was a little frightened. Had this tragedy damaged Sammy too deeply, pushed him too far? Was this the proverbial broken straw? If it was, Dean didn't know what to do. Underneath that strong, stoic act, he knew that his brother was in deep pain, but right now he didn't have a clue how to reach him.

All of this was churning in Dean's head as he drove. It actually was a gorgeous afternoon for a road trip, and under any other circumstance, Dean would be in a great mood; heading for home, Sam in the passenger seat, his Baby purring beneath him, eating up the miles. But today the beautiful sunshine seemed almost obscene, as if mocking Sam's suffering. Misery was something that should be reserved for dark nights and rainy days, but Dean knew better than most that life doesn't work that way.

The radio was on low for background noise. Sam hadn't said a word for the past 4 hours and the car had been uncomfortably quiet. Since his brother wasn't inclined to talk, and Dean had no idea what to say, he'd tried to give Sam some space and time. But now, he could hear his own stomach grumble. He shot a glance at the passenger seat.

Sam had his head tilted towards the window, his stupid hair a fluffy barrier so that Dean couldn't see his face. The whole trip he had just stared out the window as the afternoon and the scenery passed by. Originally Dean had hoped that Sam might have fallen asleep and found some escape from his anguish, but despite how still he was, the tension in Sam's shoulders meant he was awake. Dean stifled a sigh, something he'd found himself doing a lot today.

"When we hit the next town, we should stop and get something to eat." Sam's shoulders merely twitched, the only acknowledgement that he'd heard Dean. The gloomy silence lengthened so he tried again.

"Did you want me to find a diner, or should we just pick up -" Sam cut him off tonelessly.

"I'm not hungry."

Dean rubbed the edge of his thumb across the seams of the leather wrapped steering wheel. At least Sam was talking now. He'd take that as progress.

"You haven't had anything since this morning, Sam. Why don't I just get us something to go, huh?" Maybe he could coax his brother into eating. How the kid kept that gigantic body going on the rabbit food he ate was beyond him.

"Whatever," Sam said with a shrug, maintaining his stiff posture. It wasn't a no, so Dean would take it as a win.

A short time later, he pulled into a Gas-N-Sip that shared a parking lot with a food truck. Once the car was fueled up and he'd visited the men's room, Dean perused the menu. There wasn't much on offer that would tempt Sam, but he figured some fries and a fancy grilled cheese might do the trick. He ordered a burger for himself and some coffee. There was still a good 5 hours of driving ahead but he was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed tonight so he needed the caffeine.

While he'd been getting food, Sam must have made his own visit to the bathroom but he was back in the car when Dean returned. Rather than juggle the food and the keys, he walked to the passenger side and rapped on the window with a free knuckle. Sam looked up slowly, as if on autopilot, but eventually he rolled down the window so that Dean could hand him their dinner.

"I said I wasn't hungry, Dean," Sam grumbled as he passed Dean the coffee once he was settled back behind the wheel.

"I know, but you gotta eat," he responded, unwrapping his burger and taking a big bite. One handed, he maneuvered the car back onto the road as he chewed. Sam just put the box of take out on the seat between them and turned back towards the window. As Dean finished his food and washed it down with the coffee, the silence grew again along with his worry.

"C'mon Sammy," he said as he nudged the box against his brother's thigh. Sam deliberately picked up a french fry and crammed it into his mouth, staring at Dean with heavy eyes as he mechanically chewed and swallowed. Then he pushed the fries away again and turned back towards the window. Dean just shook his head. Sam always had a flair for the dramatic, apparently even while grieving. Well, he'd try again later. Maybe when they got home he could make him something.

A few hours later, they were only about a hundred miles from the bunker. Sam had eventually fallen asleep, which might be the only consolation available to the kid right now. Unfortunately Dean needed more coffee and a bathroom. He hated to wake his brother, but Sam had grown up with the sounds of the car and there was no real way to avoid it. Sure enough, once he killed the motor, Sam rolled his neck, pushing his hair out of his face and blinking awake.

xxxxxxx

"Where are we?" Sam asked. He felt groggy and sore as he stifled a yawn. The hum of the fluorescent lights of the gas station through the open driver's side door sounded very loud without the low rumble of the Impala. It had been the engine noise, his childhood lullaby that had finally allowed him to drift off to sleep.

Dean answered. "About an hour and a half from home. I'm gonna get some coffee. Did you want anything?" Sam shook his head, stretching as best he could in the cramped quarters. And then he remembered. The weight of his grief slammed into him like a tsunami swamping a beach. It was quickly followed by guilt. How could he forget, even for a moment? What kind of a terrible person could he be to allow himself the blissful unawareness of sleep.

Death had been a part of his life since his mother had burned when he was six months old, but this morning...this morning he had buried his son. A harsh spike of pain stole his breath away for a second before he ruthlessly squashed the feeling. The smiling little person who had so quickly wormed his way into Sam's heart was gone, and he wasn't coming back. It was difficult to believe that he had only met Jonathan 6 days ago. To know that he'd had only three days to be a father and now he'd had the same amount of time to grieve his little boy. Except he couldn't grieve.

The math did nothing to illuminate the way out of this torment, and Sam felt petrified and numb, like he was encased in a shell of concrete. He couldn't let himself fall into the abyss of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. If he did, he'd never come back, he'd shatter and no one, not even Dean would be able to put him back together again. For the last three days he'd been just going through the motions of life. He'd gone for long runs each morning, ate a bit of whatever Dean put in front of him and answered whenever anyone spoke to him, but the whole time nothing seemed real, and all he could think about was Jonathan.

Dean had kept him going somehow, hovering around in his sweet but rough way. Sending him probing looks and watching him, waiting for him to break so that he could help pick up the pieces as he had so many times before. But Sam couldn't break. Not this time. Somehow he had managed to smother all the horrible things in his past, his addiction, his time in the Cage, all the terrible, gruesome, painful, heartbreak that punctuated his life. He'd wrapped up all those experiences tightly and shoved them deep into some dark corner of his psyche, careful never to look too closely at them, praying to forget. But this time, he couldn't. He didn't know how, and he didn't want to. He didn't want to forget Jonathan, he didn't want to cover up even a second of the time he'd had with his boy. His smile, his laugh, the joy and innocence and easy affection. Jonathan had brought a new kind of love into his life, and he had let himself imagine a future for the first time in a long time. To bury these feelings meant letting go of his son.. And he just couldn't do that, even if the pain killed him.

When Dean returned, he accepted the bottle of water that his brother handed him, but turned back toward the window once Dean got behind the wheel. He knew his silence was bothering Dean, and normally he would have felt bad about adding to Dean's stress, but he just didn't have enough energy to care right now. Sam just wanted to hold himself together long enough to get to the privacy of his room in the bunker. Then maybe he could figure out how to...how to breathe again.


	29. Chapter 29

Dean had finally crawled into bed just before midnight. Sam had made a beeline for his bedroom as soon as they'd gotten home, but despite his own exhaustion, Dean had been too wired to sleep. He'd checked in with Cas, made a list of supplies he would need to pick up in the morning, and taken a long, hot shower. It was nice to be home, and he was asleep almost as soon as his body sunk into his beloved memory foam.

He was pulled from his rest a few hours later. The feeling of being watched made the hair prickle on the back of his neck. Slitting his eyes barely open, he could see the light streaming into his room from the hallway and Sam's large silhouette framed in the doorway. Rolling over, he rubbed a knuckle into his gritty eyes.

"Sam?"

His brother didn't answer, just stood there, a backlit shadow half a step into the room. Dean swung his legs out of bed and sat up, leaving one hand underneath his pillow near the gun he kept there. Sam took another unsteady step closer and Dean's big-brother senses prickled. Sleep had fled entirely and Dean was fully awake now, even slightly alarmed. Was Sam hurt somehow? He leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. Sam staggered a little closer, squinting and blinking as he steadied himself on the corner of Dean's desk.

"Sorry," he slurred. "Din't mean to wake ya, Jus' checkin'" Sam swayed as he spoke. His brother was completely plastered, as drunk as Dean had ever seen him. He recognized the bottle of whiskey Sam had dangling from his fist. A bottle that as of a few hours ago had been full, and now had only a few swallows left. Dean sighed. Considering everything that had happened and how tightly wound Sam had been, this wasn't completely unexpected.

"Sam," he began in his most empathetic voice, but Sam cut him off.

"Checkin' ta make sure you're not dead." He swallowed down the last of the booze with a wild swing of his arm. Dean's heart sunk, at the despair in his brother's voice. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having with a drunk Sam at 3:12 am, but it looked like a conversation Sammy needed to have.

"I'm still here," Dean affirmed quietly. Sam nodded, leaning back against the desk.

"You're th' only one, well 'cept Cas." he muttered as tears filled his eyes. "Ev'ryone else is dead," Sam huffed mournfully. Dean didn't know what to say, it may not have been one hundred percent true, but it was pretty damn close. For all their losses, it seemed like Sam got the short end of the stick, as if the universe was determined to make his brother suffer.

"Sammy," he said, rising to stand in front of Sam. "C'mon, you need to go sleep this off. You're gonna hate yourself in the morning." Sam flailed a large hand out for balance. Dean let Sam catch his forearm and the younger man gripped it tightly, like a life raft in a turbulent ocean.

"I already hate m'self," Sam whispered, hanging his head. That statement was like a punch to Dean's gut and he stilled. Words failed him, so he just let Sam hold on, and offered what strength he could. Finally Sam lifted his damp eyes. The pain in them broke Dean's heart.

"It works for you," he proclaimed sadly. Dean was confused.

"What works for me?" he asked. Sam hefted the now empty bottle and waved it at Dean.

"This." His declaration was heavy and despondent but Dean understood. It was right out of his playbook. Sometimes drinking was the only way he could stop the pain, to quiet the voices that screamed his failures at him, to blur the memories of so many things he wanted to forget. Dean wasn't proud of it, but alcohol had been his way of coping since he was a teenager. But it wasn't what he wanted for Sammy. Usually his brother found better outlets for his trauma.

"Sam," he sighed again. "I get it. You want to forget, but..." Sam cut him off again with a mighty shake of his head.

"Don't wanna forget. Ever. I wanna remember him. I jus' wan' it to stop hurtin' so bad." With that emphatic confession, Sam's voice broke and his face crumpled. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he looked all of 5 years old. Dean spread his free hand against Sam's neck, rubbing his thumb against Sam's skin to offer comfort.

"I know Sammy, I know," he whispered gruffly. He couldn't take seeing Sam like this and his own eyes started to sting. Stepping closer, he pulled Sam towards him and wrapped his arms around his brother. Sam folded against him easily, tucking his head against the collar of Dean's t-shirt. His ridiculously broad shoulders shook as he cried like a child. Dean just held him, petted Sam's hair and let him sob out his grief.

After a few minutes, when it seemed like Sam had gotten most of it out of his system, Dean stepped back and squeezed his biceps to steady him. The kid was a mess, with a wet, blotchy face and a runny, red nose. Dean had to smile inwardly at his kid. Nearby, his discarded flannel was hanging on the back of the chair, so he grabbed it and used a clean-ish corner to wipe Sammy's face. The booze and the crying must have really expended the last of his reserves because Sam didn't pull away. Patiently, he sat with a sappy expression and just patiently let Dean work.

"You always take care of me," he muttered as Dean finished cleaning him up.

"Well, that's my job, right? Take care of my pain in the ass little brother." He smiled and Sammy gave him a ghost of one back. It was the best thing Dean had seen in days. Sam tilted a little, his eyes beginning to droop.

"Alright. Let's get you to bed, okay?" Sam stood obediently when Dean tugged gently on his arm. Dean plucked the empty bottle from his lax hand and set it on the desk. Wrapping one arm around his brother's waist, he guided them into the hallway. Sam was so wobbly that Dean was half dragging him down the hall. Cas appeared from the other direction. He took an assessing look at the two of them before hurrying forward.

"Is Sam okay?" he asked, already positioning himself under Sam's other arm. Sam's head lolled forward, letting Dean and Cas support his weight.

"Yeah, Cas, he'll be fine," Dean grunted. Sam wasn't exactly a lightweight. "Let's just get him to his bed." Between the two of them, they made it to Sam's bedroom and carefully laid him on top of the rumpled sheets. Dean maneuvered him onto his side and then drew up the blanket. He watched as Sam sunk into sleep, hoping that unconsciousness would bring his brother some peace.

"Can I do anything?" Cas asked quietly, obvious concern in his blue eyes as he looked at Sam's tear streaked face. Dean pulled Sammy's desk chair closer to the bed and sat down. He needed to keep an eye on his brother and wasn't likely to get any more sleep of his own tonight.

"I'm gonna sit with him for awhile. So, maybe you could make some coffee?" Dean asked hopefully with a small smile at their friend.

"Of course," Cas said before he hustled out of the room towards the kitchen. Dean tucked the covers over Sam a little better as his sleeping brother began to snore.

Glancing around the room, Dean found several empty beer cans and a miniature bottle of vodka. "You don't do things halfway, do you Sammy?" Dean said softly to himself. Thank goodness Sam was such a big guy otherwise the kid probably would have given himself alcohol poisoning. He didn't have the same tolerance that Dean had, which was probably a good thing. He went to set the empties on the desk but the space was already covered with a strange variety of things.

The wooden box that sat open on the desktop was familiar to Dean. It was the one Jenny had found in the old family home in Laurence ten years ago. At the time, after seeing Mom's spirit, it had been too painful for Dean to do more than take a quick look and liberate a couple of pictures. After that, Sam had taken possession of the box and Dean seldom saw it again. Now Sam had obviously been going through it because it was sitting open.

Dean may have often teased Sam for being sappy and emo, but in reality he could admit that he was generally the more sentimental of the two of them. Dad certainly hadn't been, and growing up they had learned to travel light through necessity. But apparently Sam was more nostalgic than Dean thought because this box was full of things that his brother had squirreled away over the years.

Of course, there were some photos - a few of which Dean hadn't seen before. After a brief glance, he moved them to one side. Underneath them was a green army man like the ones he and Sam used to play with when the backseat of the Impala had been their playground. Sam had kept the Zippo lighter Dean had given him to commemorate his first official salt and burn. There was also Bobby's empty, old wallet, a baseball, some playing cards, and the wooden amulet from that crazy play Marie and her friends had put on last year. Sitting on top of the open lid was Sebastian, Jonathan's little plush elephant friend.

Dean picked it up. The memory of the first time he'd met his nephew washed over him. The serious little guy who had trusted his special friend to Dean's care during bath time. The sadness that Dean had been suppressing welled up inside of him. He had pushed aside his feelings of loss and sorrow in his worry for Sam, but they were still there. Dean found himself wishing that Sam had left some of that whiskey. He dashed a couple of tears out of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and then set the floppy elephant back where he had found him. Just then Cas returned with a steaming mug in his hands.

"Hey Dean," he said as he passed Dean the cup, coming to stand by his shoulder. The only illumination in the room was from the desk lamp. It left the room very dim, but acted like a spotlight on the desk. Cas reached out to stroke the stuffie with one finger.

"Did this belong to Sam's son?" Swallowing his emotions down with a sip of coffee, Dean just nodded. He felt Cas' gaze move to his face, but he ignored the angel as he stared into the black depths of his mug.

"The child was an innocent," Cas said tentatively, as if unwilling to interrupt Dean's contemplations. "I am confident that he is at peace in Heaven." Dean snorted lightly. Cold comfort that was. Jonathan should have had his whole life ahead of him, instead he was stuck reliving his 5five short years in a fantasy land built by some angel dicks. There wasn't even a guarantee that he was with his mother - not really. Still, that wasn't Cas' fault. He patted his friend's arm.

"Yeah, I know. Look, I've got this," he said gesturing towards the bed where Sam was sleeping. "Why don't you go back to what you were doing." He appreciated Cas' concern, but he wasn't ready to look for silver linings just yet. Understanding his request for the dismissal it was Cas just nodded and turned to leave. He stopped at the door.

"I'll, uh, come check on you in a few hours." Then with a sad smile, he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Dean pulled the hard desk chair closer to the bed and sat down, propping his sock feet on the edge of the mattress. Slowly sipping his coffee, he watched the rise and fall of Sam's chest. Tension slipped from his shoulders as he kept his vigil. Despite everything that had happened, he found himself strangely content. Sure, he wished he could take away Sam's pain, but for now, he was right where he was supposed to be. Watching over his little brother, keeping him safe.

The end.


End file.
